


All Those Things You Fear

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: The Autumn Effect [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Child Abuse, Crows, Drama, F/M, Granny - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Scarecrow - Freeform, Start Of Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 21,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tickle is growing and his chest feels tight. He tries to swallow, but that only makes it worse. There's no stopping it. His coughs echo in the old room. The sudden noise startles the black shapes in the rafters and he feels them looking at him. Realizing that he is here. There's a flutter, and the sound of claws leaving wood, and then they're on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo, hullo. New to this site-tags are subject to change. This-and everything else to come-is also on ff.net and Wattpad. It is part of a series, if you will, but I have no name for that yet. Maybe you lot can come up with something.
> 
> I do not own this version of Jonathan Crane's backstory. You can find it in the 'Year One' comic-which you should read anyway. Apologies to the ornithophobes, but at least you can click out. He has to live it.

Jonathan Crane hates high school. What’s the point? Sitting in class, watching a bunch of Neanderthals throw paper airplanes at each other? Spare him the agony.

Well, it could be worse. He could be stuck with dear old Granny. He shivers inwardly at the idea.

Somebody hits him with an airplane and he sighs. When can he go to the library, where it’s safe?

“Hey. Scarecrow.” He grimaces and tries to concentrate on his homework. “Hey.”

Another airplane hits him-this time in the head-and he sets his pencil down.

“What do you want?”

“What’s the assignment?”

“It’s on the board.” He’ll regret that, but it just slips out. Is this idiot completely illiterate? Wait, he knows this one- _yes._

This time it’s a rubber band that smacks him in the head. Ow.

“Pages thirteen and fourteen.” he says at last. Nothing hits him this time and he returns to his math homework.

_When X is Y+3…_

Why should he care? Math is important, yes, but not this kind. Besides, he’s bored stiff. _And_ whoever had used this book last had doodled all over the problems. Idiot.

He turns the page and finds that the doodler had taken a sharpie to the problems. Dammit. Now what?

Asking somebody to borrow a book is suicide. Hopefully the library will have a copy…

“J-Jonathan?” For a minute he ignores the voice. Nobody calls him by his name except the teachers, and they don’t have an English accent. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

New student. He’d forgotten about her. What fun, another tormentor. God, he can’t wait to get out of here.

“Yes.”

“S-sorry to bother you.” Well, she _sounds_ sorry. “I can’t get the teacher to listen to me…what’s question nineteen? Some git spilled soda on my book and the ink ran.”

He reads the problem to her without looking up. Will she leave now? His head hurts and he doesn’t feel like talking.

“Thank you.”

Well. That’s a nice surprise. What is he supposed to say?

“You’re welcome.”

There. That sounded right. Now, if she’ll just leave him alone, he can go back to worrying about an illegible math book.

New Student leaves and he rubs his head. He almost wants to go home. If he’s lucky, he can just go straight to his room and hide all weekend. He’s just so tired.

He gives up and lays his head down. Nobody will notice him if he stays very still and quiet. He knows this from experience. The only person it doesn’t work on is Granny…no. Not right now.

The desk is cool against his skin and he closes his eyes. He just wants to sleep.

He does not sleep and ten minutes later he’s at his locker. Someone bumps into him-it may have been an accident-and his books drop. For once, he is left to pick them up in peace.

“Want help?” New Student again. He isn’t sure if he should say yes or no. For all he knows, she’ll say no to get into someone’s good graces. “Hello?”

“I-I’m fine.”

She ignores him and drops to help him gather a pile of papers. What does she want? Homework help? He’s not tutoring her, and that’s final.

“Kitty Richardson.”

For a minute he doesn’t register that she’s spoken to him. Then he realizes that she’s given him her name and that he should return the favour.

“Jonathan Crane.”

He’s _not_ shaking hands, though.

“Here’s your…um…homework.”

Good guess. It’s mostly just scratch paper.

“Thank you.”

It hits him that this is his new neighbor. Oh, _great._ Oh, well. There’s a lot of land between the houses. She’ll never find out. He hopes she doesn’t find out, anyway, because she looks like a nosey individual.

Ohh, his head is killing him. It’s study hall next. Maybe he’ll go to the library, where it’s quiet. And safe from the football team.

“Are you okay?”

Who, him?

Yes, him. There’s no one else in the hall.

“Fine.” He stands up and nearly trips over a crack in the floor. “Thank you.”

Why would she ask that sort of question?

Odd or not, she goes to her next class and he drops his things in the library before going to sign in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason Jonathan is...less psychotic...is because he's seventeen years old. He's still kind of adorable. Shame it doesn't stick, but there's nothing I can do about that.

Jonathan makes it to his bedroom without being seen and falls onto his bed. He’s tired and his head is really starting to hurt. Allergies, probably.

He lays there until it’s dark, and then Granny calls him. He doesn’t want to go down, but maybe she wants to fetch something from the attic. That would be fine. If that’s all she wants, he’ll actually hurry up about it.

“Jonathan!”

Unfortunately, it doesn’t sound like that’s what she wants.

He keeps his eyes firmly on the floor and murmurs, “Yes, Granny?”

“Where have you been all afternoon?”

“Cleaning my room.” Technically that had been yesterday, but…

“Come here, Jonathan.”

He doesn’t want to get closer. She’s clutching her cane in a way that says she’ll hit him with it. All the same, he goes closer to her and stands still, ready to get out of the way.

“Sit down, child.”

How about not?

He sits down on the couch. What does she want?

“We have new neighbors.” She’s just figured that out now? “You are not to associate with them.” Why should he? “Is that quite clear, Jonathan?”

“Y-yes, Granny.”

“Good boy.” He feels a little like a dog, but he doesn’t dare say so. “Go to your room.”

He takes the out and all but runs upstairs. His room isn’t any safer, really, but it’s still his room and Granny’s not in it.

It hits him too late that he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch, and that was the mush the cafeteria serves. The thought of _that_ chases any semblance of hunger away.

He rolls over and looks at the cracks in the ceiling. They’ve been there as long as he can remember. Are they growing? The old mansion falls apart more and more every year. One day this ceiling might fall down, too, burying him beneath the rafters. Somehow, that doesn’t seem as terrible as it should.

The cracks get boring and he rolls over again. Sleep. He has to sleep tonight, or he’ll pass out in study hall tomorrow and wake up with things drawn all over him. It’s happened before, and some of those drawings reminded Granny that he was the spawn of the devil and needed to be punished.

He shudders at the memory and closes his eyes. He needs to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

“Let go of me!”

What on…

“Let go of me right now! So help me Jesus, I’ll kick your scrawny arse if you don’t take your hands off of me!”

New Student. It sounds like she’s in trouble.

He should just turn around, but he’ll never forgive himself if she ends up…oh, _fine_.

He’s halfway down the hall when he realizes that he has no idea what to do. He keeps walking anyway, trying not listen to the screaming.

“I said to _let go_!”

He rounds the corner just as there’s a _crack_. It doesn’t sound like a good crack, either.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees what made it. Matthew Sanchez-one of the football players and therefore no friend of his-is lying on the concrete floor. New Student

_Kitty, Kitty Richardson_

is leaning against the wall, straightening her sleeves. When she sees him, she takes several steps back.

“Don’t touch me.” she warns. He holds his hands up and stays still. She puts her headband back on and looks down. Sanchez is clutching his head and groaning. Jonathan wonders if he has a concussion and decides he doesn’t care.

“Are you all right?” The answer is obvious, but it can’t hurt to ask.

“Physically.” She finishes straightening her clothes and aims a kick at Sanchez. “Never touch me again.”

Jonathan is impressed. He doesn’t know what she did, but it looks like it hurt. He hopes it hurt.

“That’s good.”

“What were you doing here?” Oh, great, she thinks he was involved. Whatever she did, he has no desire to be on the receiving end.

“I heard shouting.” He puts a few more feet between them. “That’s all.”

“You were going to help me?”

_Help_ is too strong a word. If she’d inserted a _try_ , that would have been accurate. Saying so is probably a bad idea.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Looking at her now, he can’t tell that she’s just fought off one of the football players.

“Of course.” Well, she’s fine, he should be going. “Do you need to go the office?”

_Now_ she’s starting to shiver. What’s he supposed to do? Will Granny find out?

“Will they do anything?”

Suspicious already. Smart girl.

“No.”

Maybe they will, but they never do anything when _he’s_ been knocked around. He doubts it.

“Then no.”

She’s still shivering and he wonders if he should give her his jacket or something.

“What’s your next class?”

“St-study hall.”

“With Jones?” She nods. She must be awfully quiet, because he’s never actually seen her in there. “She won’t mind if you’re late.”

“Why would I be late?”

“Um…”

Oops. Maybe he should just shut up and walk away.

To his surprise, she walks to class with him. He decides that she’s paranoid. He can’t blame her.

“Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You were going to help me.”

Maybe. In an ideal world.

“Granny raised a gentleman.” In her own way.

“Thank you.” she says again. He shrugs and adjusts his grip on his books.

Mrs. Jones gives him a library pass. He’s surprised when Kitty joins him in the library and cracks a book without a word. Are they friends now? He doesn’t exactly want friends. And Granny will be upset if she finds out.

“Kitty?”

“Mm.”

“Are you stalking me or something?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

And that is the end of the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes you are, Kitty. Admit it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will grow in length, but I refuse to rush things. The characters won't let me do that anyway, so blame them. That's what I do.

Kitty doesn’t want to go to school today. She tried to tell her parents about what happened, honestly she did, but she couldn’t force it out. Besides, they wouldn’t believe her. It’s no big secret that she didn’t want to move here-it’s hot and miserable and in a whole other country. Besides, they haven’t been speaking much lately. Coming out with something like that will only make them think she wants attention.

It’s been two months since school started-how boring is this?-and she has no friends. Scratch that-Jonathan might count as a friend. Maybe. He’s not an enemy, anyways.

They’re at lunch now. The food is terrible and she threw hers out after four bites. Jonathan took the smart route and didn’t get any of it.

Speaking of Jonathan, he looks exhausted. Maybe he’s an insomniac.

“Jonathan?”

“Mm.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nods and leans against the wall. Kitty yawns and plays with a pen. It’s Friday at last. God, she can’t wait for the weekend.

Jonathan slumps forward against the table, his glasses making a dull clinking sound as they fall off his face. Kitty stifles a laugh and taps his head with the pen.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Sorry, Jonathan.”

He swats the pen away and puts his glasses back on just as the bell rings. Kitty scowls at the lunch ladies.

“They’re not the cause of the bell.”

“But they serve such terrible…food.”

He shrugs. Kitty rolls her eyes and stands up. Art next. Ugh. She can’t draw and the teacher-Mr. Night-is as strict as they come. He won’t let them out unless the building is on fire.

Sure enough, art is terrible. It doesn’t help that Sanchez is in that class with her, and he doesn’t like that she humiliated him. She doesn’t know what he thought would happen. When it came to self-defense, her parents had always told her to aim for the crotch. Surely they weren’t the only parents with such advice.

She flips him off when the teacher isn’t looking and wonders if that was a mistake. Oh, well, too late now. Besides, she doesn’t need help. She fought him off once and she’ll do it again.

All the same, she bolts straight out of class, checks in for study hall, and goes to hide in the library. She doesn’t think Sanchez knows what a library is. Besides, it’s cool inside and she can get her homework done in relative peace.

She’s trying to get interested in the book they have to read for English, but it’s difficult. Can’t they read Poe or Lovecraft or Stoker? Hell, she’d take DuMarier at this point. Anything but Orwell.

“Orwell?”

She jumps. The one thing that really irritates her about Jonathan is his silence. She swears he just teleports. Or maybe he’s a vampire.

“Jonathan, Jesus…” She takes a deep breath. “English.”

“Did I scare you?”

“Obviously.”

He drops into the chair across from her and digs through his backpack, eventually coming up with a chemistry book. Ugh. Kitty’s not one for chemistry. Too much math involved.

If she was expecting an apology, she doesn’t get it. All she gets is a quiet chuckle. At least one of them is amused.

“Sorry. About the Orwell. Boring, isn’t it?”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

He’s holding his arm funny-has been all day-and she gives him a minute to get comfortable before asking about it.

“What happened?”

“To what?”

“Your arm.”

He grimaces and moves a bit.

“Tripped.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I really did trip. You should’ve seen it.”

She doesn’t believe him. He probably had a run-in with Bo Griggs, but she wishes he’d tell her about it. It’s not a big secret or anything.

“If you say so.” she says at last. “Just don’t strain it.”

“Yes, Nurse.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” she warns him. He chuckles again and settles into his chair.


	5. Chapter 5

Jonathan hates the weekends. It’s not that school is that much better, but at least on school days he can hide in the library part of the time.

This weekend is no different than any of the others. He spends Saturday trying to fight off a sore throat and a stuffy nose, and by Sunday he’s suspecting he has a cold. This matters not to Granny, who drags them to Sunday Service as usual. It takes a lot of effort to keep from sniffling and sneezing.

Granny is not pleased when he can’t repress a bout of sneezing near the end of the sermon-as if he needs reminding that he’s going to rot in an imaginary hell! He doesn’t make eye contact with her until they’re home.

“Seventeen years ago, I took you under my roof.” she intones. “Seventeen long years! And what thanks do I get?”

“I’m sorry.” He sneezes again. “I can’t help it, I…”

She swipes at him with her cane and he dodges, but barely.

“I should have known how you would turn out!” she screeches. “I should have left you outside to die!”

No matter how many times he hears it, it still hurts. It’s not his fault!

“I’m sorry.” he says softly, knowing it won’t help his case.

She swings the cane at him again. He is unable to dodge this time. That will bruise. Hopefully that’ll appease her.

“Granny, please…”

She swings again. And again. And once more.

_Magic number three._

It’s sunny out. How can it be sunny when his life is a nightmare? Isn’t it supposed to be rainy and dark?

She lets him go to his room and he sinks onto his bed, his body aching. Surely that cane doesn’t _need_ to be so heavy.

He curls into a small ball and wraps his arms around himself. He’s sore and his nose is clogged up. Why does he have to have a cold _now_?

He burrows under the sheet and closes his eyes. Maybe if he sleeps, his cold will go away. If he’s very lucky.

He’s not. Granny comes up around six-fifteen and tells him to put his suit on. Arguing will do him no good. Hopefully she’ll remember to let him out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I'M scared of Granny. My great-gramma would probably get along with her-lucky me she's like ninety and lives several states away.


	6. Chapter 6

“Jonathan, my God…what happened to you?”

He looks up at her and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

Nothing? He’s covered in scratches and bruises! Unless he’s a sleepwalker, she’s hard-pressed to believe him.

“Jonathan…”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. I tripped.”

“There’s no way you can be that clumsy.”

“You don’t know me very well.”

No, she doesn’t, but nobody is that clumsy. She should know. Her cousin falls down every flight of stairs she sees, and she _never_ looks this bad.

Jonathan sneezes and straightens up a bit.

“I’m fine.” he says again. “Don’t fuss.”

“Jonathan!”

“What?”

His voice is irritated and Kitty wonders if maybe she should just drop it.

“You know you can tell me if something’s going on.” she says lamely. “Right?”

He gives her an odd look.

“Yes.”

She doesn’t believe that he’ll tell her anything. He’s not a good a liar as he thinks he is. All the same, she lets the subject drop.

“Good.”

He sighs and combs his hair over his face a bit more. If he thinks he’s fooling anyone, then he is an idiot.

“Are you sure you don’t…”

“Drop it.”

She drops it. But she doesn’t like it.

* * *

            The subject doesn’t stay dropped for long. By study hall, Kitty has no choice but to bring it up again. She knows a cold when she hears one, and she has no desire to get sick.

“Jonathan, are you sick?”

“No.”

“You may not mind being sick, but I don’t want your cold. If you’re sick, go home.”

“Kitty…”

“What is going on? You’ve been off all day.”

“I’m fine.” He sneezes and looks at the library door. “Stop worrying.”

“You’re sick.” she says. “Why are you at school?”

“I’m not sick.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

The bell rings and he’s up and out the door before she can question him further. She watches him leave. Something’s going on. She supposes she could ask around, but she doesn’t fancy getting within grabbing range of her fellow students. Besides, Jonathan would never forgive her. Probably.

She’ll just have to get him to tell her. How that’s going to happen is, of course, another matter entirely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, look at that, two updates. This is complete, and I have a crazy-giant amount of other stories I'd like to post, but this should be read first. So unless there's like...suspense...it'll be two updates per day now, just to get it up and moving.

She knows something. Jonathan is at a loss how to convince her otherwise, and he suspects he only made it worse by denying things. She won’t drop it now.

He stays on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. How is he going to convince her to drop it? It’s no town secret that he and Granny aren’t on good terms, it’s not that, but she’ll try to get _involved_. The less she knows about things, the better.

Denial only made her suspicious, and she didn’t buy the ‘tripped’ story. He doesn’t know why he thought that would work.

What to do, what to do?

The smart thing to do is to avoid her, but it’s rather nice to have a friend. Or at least an acquaintance. Whatever he can classify her as. So that’s out, if purely for selfish reasons.

He’ll just have to come up with a better lie. He could say, truthfully, that he was attacked by birds. He can just leave out the particulars. Yes. He was attacked by birds over the weekend and has a touch of allergies.

Somehow, he doesn’t think that she’ll buy it.

He flings his pillow at the closet and lets his head drop onto the hard mattress. Why couldn’t she have transferred a few years later? Or not at all? Or transferred and had nothing to do with him? Life would be so much easier then.

He rolls over and wonders what he’ll do if she does find out. He doubts she’ll ever find out everything-not even Poe had as much imagination as Granny-but that doesn’t mean she won’t find out _something_. She might even figure out that Granny is behind the scratches. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to lie to her if she drops that on him.

Dammit!

He wishes he had something else to throw, but his pillow is over there and he doesn’t want to get up and get it.

“Jonathan!”

He winces at the querulous old voice from downstairs. What does she want now? He cleaned up over the weekend. Is he in trouble again?

“Coming, Granny!” he calls back. Maybe she wants him to get something down. Unlikely, but he can hope.

She is sitting on the porch with her iced tea. Fields. He hadn’t gotten to those-as if anything grows there anyway. It’s safer to weed than to argue with her, though, and he goes to get the hoe and the rake.

He spends the afternoon trying to ignore Granny as she shouts to work faster, he missed a patch, etc. By the time he’s finished, his throat is killing him and he still doesn’t know what to do about Kitty.


	8. Chapter 8

Kitty doesn’t press Jonathan again for a few days, but when he comes to school with a bad cough, she’s had enough.

“You are sick.” she says. “Go home.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not sick.”

“Oh, for the love of…Jonathan, you look like death. And you sound like a frog. You are sick.”

“I’m not sick.” he says again.

She reaches over to put her hand on his head. Normally he’d pull back, but this time he just sits still and closes his eyes.

“You’re burning up.” she corrects. “Come along, we’re not going to argue.”

“About what?” He moves his head away and scoots back a few inches. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse’s office.” she says. “If you won’t go home, you can stay there. I don’t want to get sick. Infect anyone you like, just not me.”

He blinks at her and doesn’t move. She doesn’t want to drag him, but she will.

“Now, Jonathan.”

He gets up and picks up his backpack.

“Why.”

“Because you’re sick.”

“No, why are you doing this?”

O-kay, then. That’s a weird question to ask.

“Because you’re my friend, and because I don’t want to get sick by you coughing on me all day.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that-imagine, Jonathan Crane struck speechless!-and they walk towards the office.

The nurse isn’t in. What kind of establishment are they running here? What if someone has a broken leg?

Scratch that-hopefully Sanchez gets a broken leg when the nurse isn’t in.

Well, the door’s open. She supposes that means they can just go in.

“Lay down and go to sleep.” she says. Jonathan looks at the cot and shudders.

“I don’t know who’s been on that thing.” he says. “What if someone threw up on it?”

“Jonathan, for heaven’s sake! Just lay down, it’s been sterilized. I promise.”

“Were you here when they did it?”

“No, but…”

“I am not getting on that.”

“It’s not a rabid pony.”

“Still.”

She has no desire to pin him to it.

“You’re not going back out there.”

“I’m not staying in here!”

“They’ll just send you here if they see you. And they won’t be as nice as I am.”

He sighs and nudges the cot a few times. After a minute, he sits down and glowers at her.

“Happy?”

“It’s a start.”

“Kitty!”

“Just lie down!”

A coughing fit cuts off any argument and he finally curls up against the wall. Victory. She tugs the overly-starched sheet over him just as the bell rings.

“If I get the flu, it’s your fault.”

“Go to sleep, Jonathan.”

He rolls his eyes. She leaves.

* * *

            When Kitty comes back after school, Jonathan hasn’t moved an inch. He isn’t asleep, either.

“Do you have a ride home?” He shakes his head. How exactly does he get here, then? Walk? “Come on, we’ll drop you off.”

“I’m fine.” She raises an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Come on. Up.”

He doesn’t argue with her. Good.

“You don’t have to drive me.”

“You want to walk home? Fine! I doubt you’ll get more than twenty feet, though.”

For a minute she wonders if he’ll try it anyway, just to prove a point, but he doesn’t.

Mary Richardson is sitting in the parking lot, singing along to something terrible on the radio. Kitty suspects that Jonathan will hold this against her later on. She would, if she were him. But if she were him, and he were her…oh, forget it.

“Mum, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, this is my mother.”

“Hello, sweetie!” God, her mother is embarrassing. Kitty thinks she does it on purpose. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Ma’m. Really.”

Mum doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Come on, sweetie, we’ll give you a lift. Now, I won’t take no for an answer!”

Kitty smirks when her mother’s not looking. Jonathan gives her a pleading look and she pretends not to see it.

Nobody’s home. Kitty’s pretty sure she’s imagining the relief on Jonathan’s face when he finds out. Mum, however, refuses to let him go home.

“You’re sick, sweetie.” she says. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Kitty rolls her eyes. He _is_ seventeen, for heaven’s sake. She’s reasonably sure he can manage for a few hours. Jonathan, apparently, agrees.

“I’ll be all right.” he says softly. “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Richardson.”

“No, and that is my final answer.”

“Mu-um! This is kidnapping!”

Mum ignores her and drives a little bit further and into their own driveway.

“I promise not to call the police.” he says to Kitty. If he wasn’t sick she might poke him for that.

Sick or not, Mum orders him to the couch and proceeds to shower them both with food. Kitty wishes she wouldn’t-she’s not hungry and Jonathan looks about to sink through the floor.

“You’re skinny as a rail.” she says. “Both of you. Kitty, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you not to skip breakfast…”

“It’s too early!”

“But if I have to sit here and wait you out, I will. Eat up.”

Kitty sighs and wonders if this was a mistake.

“We’ll eat it, Mum. You don’t have to lurk.”

They are left alone.

“That’s your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s nice.”

“She could be worse.”

A shadow passes over his face, but it’s gone in seconds. Kitty wonders what’s going on.

“I can’t stay.” he says. “Granny will…she’ll worry about me.”

“Mum won’t like it.”

“Then don’t tell her.”

“She’ll notice.”

“Granny’ll skin me alive if I’m not home.”

He looks serious. Kitty wonders why.

“Granny?”

He nods and twists around to look outside.

“Granny Keeney. She’ll be upset…I should go.”

He’s twitchy and nervous and Kitty wonders what this Granny Keeney is like.

“Go to bed, yeah? You look like death.”

And then he’s gone, trudging across the weed-filled no man’s land between their houses. Kitty loses sight of him after a few minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

Jonathan can’t make it to school on Friday. It’s not for lack of trying, but he honestly can’t make it.

By three in the afternoon, he’s lying on his bed, trying to sleep. Why can’t he sleep? He’s exhausted, he should be able to sleep.

He hadn’t meant to tell Kitty anything yesterday. Now she’ll be extra curious, if not downright suspicious.

Granny’s napping and he shuffles downstairs to get something to drink. Water, water…ahh. Water. It tastes a little rusty, but it’s wet.

There’s a knock at the door.

No one ever comes up here-if Granny answers the door, she’ll strike out with her cane. Who is dumb enough to come up here?

He opens the door, expecting a salesman or something, and finds that it’s Kitty. She has a stack of books in her arms. Is school out al…oh. Early dismissal on Fridays.

“Kitty.”

“I did say you were sick.” she says. “Here. Homework. The page numbers are written down inside.”

“How did you get these?”

“Picked your lock.”

“You picked my lock?”

“Hairpins have many uses.” she says. “It took ten minutes, I’ll have you know, so be grateful.”

He glances behind him. Granny hasn’t come out yet.

“Thank you.” he says. She has to leave, _right now_. His luck never holds for very long.

“Go to bed.” she says. When he doesn’t move, she reaches out and nudges him back. Why does she have to be so _touchy_? Why? “I mean it, Jonathan. Right now.”

“Thank you for getting my books.” he says. Now will she leave? “I’m going back to bed.” There. That should do it.

“Good. Feel better by Monday, yeah? And stay home if you’re not.”

He’ll just have to hope she doesn’t notice if he’s still sick.

He forces a smile and shuts the door. Granny stayed asleep. Today must be his lucky day…unless she was watching from the top of the staircase. He twisted around, half-expecting to see her wizened old form, and found that he was still alone. He would just take these upstairs and go to bed, then. She isn’t awake to tell him to do something. Yet.

He drops his books on the floor and rubs his face. God, spare him the agony of being home for three whole days.

“Who was at the door?”

She knows! How could she possibly know? Maybe Granny is some sort of mind-reader.

“Someone from school brought my books by, Granny.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know, just one of my classmates.”

“You wouldn’t be lying, would you?”

Calm. He needs to keep his voice calm.

“No, Granny.”

Will she buy it? He holds his breath and waits for the inevitable screech.

“Good boy.”

She believed him? She actually believed him? Maybe he won’t be out in the chapel tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

Kitty doesn’t mean to worry about Jonathan. She makes an effort not to freak out when he misses Monday through Wednesday. She would be less freaked out if somebody up there would answer the damn door.

He’s back on Thursday. Kitty considers calling the police then and there.

“Jonathan, what on…answers. Now.”

He might actually give them to her, but the bell rings and he runs for class. Lousy bell. It has terrible timing.

The one class she has with him before lunch is canceled because of a pep rally. Is the universe trying to sabotage her? Really? She mentally shakes her fist at the sky. This is completely unfair.

By the time lunchtime rolls around, she’s cross and hungry. She grabs a bag of crisps and tries to ignore Jonathan’s little health-lecture.

“They do have carrots, you know.”

“Shut up, Jonathan. Those overcooked things are _not_ carrots.”

He shrugs and slumps over the table, his head pillowed on his arms.

“I suppose not.”

“Well? You said you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

Her patience is running thin.

_“Jonathan…”_

“What? Nothing’s going on, Kitty. I found a baby bird a few days ago and the parents got angry.”

Two birds had nearly torn him apart? Really? How stupid does he think she is?

“And?”

“That’s it.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“The truth, please.”

He shakes his head and mumbles, “That is the truth.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“Then why are you lying to me?”

He sighs and makes an irritated gesture.

“I’m not.”

She gives up. She’ll try again later, or she’ll try to piece it together herself. How hard can that be?

* * *

            Their study hall teacher isn’t there and everyone signs in and makes a break for it. Unfortunately, Sanchez is in the library-his class is watching a movie. Damn.

“Follow me.”

Follow him? Follow him where?

“Where are we?”

“They don’t use this building any more.” he explains. “It was the chemistry building, but it caught fire. They just built a new one.”

“We’re not going in there, are we?” she asks. It’s very tall and it looks like it might fall. This has to be breaking every rule in the health and safety book.

“No. But no one comes back here, either.”

He should know.

Kitty flops down in the dry grass next to the building. This feels almost like ditching. She doesn’t know if she likes this feeling.

“Are we supposed to be here?”

“Probably not.”

He looks tired and she wonders if she should ask him why. He won’t give her a straight answer, she decides.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugs.

“I guess.”

Hah! She knew something was going on.

“How’s your grandmother?”

“ _Great_ grandmother. And fine.” His voice is clipped. “Let’s not talk about her.”

Something to do with his grandmother, then. Hm.

“Fine.”

She’s at a loss for what else to ask, and he doesn’t say anything. Dammit.

“You’ll tell me if you need something, right?”

“Why would I…sure. Promise. Cross my heart.”

She rolls her eyes but gives up.


	11. Chapter 11

Kitty tells herself she’s not worried. She tells herself that birds just don’t like him, and that he really is as clumsy as he says he is. Hell, she even tells herself that his absolute _hatred_ for his grandmother is normal. She doesn’t believe these things, but it’s not for lack of trying.

Her uneasy illusions are shattered into tiny pieces one September evening. She’s sitting on the porch with a cup of tea and Stephen King’s latest when she is set upon by a swarm of gnats. She retreats to her room to read in peace.

Gnats or not, she leaves the window open. Eventually her eyes are drawn to the chapel over at the edge of the Keeney property. That place gives her the creeps, but she won’t tell Jonathan that. It’s extra creepy tonight, what with a nearly fully moon rising behind it, showcasing its decay. A murder of crows

_Couldn’t they have found a nicer term?_

sits on the roof. Kitty shudders.

She catches sight of two people, one with a very long arm and the other tall and lanky, like a walking scarecrow, heading towards the chapel. For a second she panics, but then she realizes that it’s only Jonathan and his grandmother. What are they doing at this hour? Maybe Jonathan really is a vampire. Or something. She’ll admit it _could_ happen.

Minding her own business has never been her strong point, and she’ll admit to being a little concerned for Jonathan’s safety. She’ll nip out and take a quick peek, just to make sure nothing’s wrong, and come back home.

This is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, and that includes the time she tried to ride a wild pony and broke her arm. Although she had been drunk that time, so it only half-counted.

She’s about thirty feet away when Mrs. Keeney opens the door and shoves Jonathan inside. What is she doing? There’s the sound of a bolt being drawn and she turns back to the house. Kitty is about to go and open the door-what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t?-when a crow lifts its head. Then another. Then the whole murder

_God, why couldn’t they chosen another name?_

flutters into the air and spirals downwards.

Screw getting caught. Her parents will notice and raise hell if the old crone shoves _her_ in there, and she has no qualms about breaking a hip to get away.

The bolt doesn’t want to open. She nearly breaks it off before she can get it to slide back and let her in.

Jonathan’s curled up on the far side of the crumbling building, and she nearly doesn’t see him through the flurry of black feathers. Is he dead? God, he can’t be dead…

“Jonathan!”

The crows are startled for a moment and flutter up to the rafters. She doesn’t know when they’ll realize that she can’t hurt them. Crows are supposed to be clever, aren’t they?

“Jonathan…look at me. Please!” She wants to shake him. “Jonathan!”

“Keep out of it, Kitty.”

Keep out of it? Is he insane?

“Come on, we’ll call the police…”

“They don’t care.” He glances up at the crows and motions her back. “I’ll be fine. Get out.”

“Jonathan…”

“Get out!”

The crows are getting restless again.

“Come with me.”

“Then she’ll never let me out. Go. Now.”

“Don’t be daft!”

If she has to drag him, she will. She probably won’t get very far, but she can try.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe Wednesday.”

“Jonathan, please!”

She hears a noise outside and cringes. Her parents may raise hell, but that doesn’t mean they’ll raise enough.

“Can you climb trees?”

“Yes…”

“My house, soon as you can. Second floor, first window on the right.”

“Out!”

It about kills her to lock the door again, but she’s halfway across the field before Mrs. Keeney is in sight.

* * *

            Where the hell is he? She left him

_Jesus, I left him!_

over an hour ago. Where is he? He’s not going to be there all night, is he?

She checks the window for the thousandth time and sees nothing. No Jonathan, no Mrs. Keeney, and no crows. Where is he?

She goes downstairs for a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. When she comes back up, Jonathan is sitting uncomfortably on her bed, staring at the floor. She considers it a blessing that she doesn’t drop the cup.

“Jonathan?” He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t look up. “Jonathan are you…Jesus.”

Now that she can see him in the light, she can see that he’s bloody and shaking. He must have come straight over.

She sets her tea down and sits next to him, unsure of what to say. What _can_ she say?

Okay. She’ll see what she can do to clean him up, and then she’ll go from there.

“Take your shirt off.” she says. He shakes his head. “Yes. Right now. I’ll be right back.”

Okay, okay…warm washcloth, her father’s Black Sabbath pajamas, and another cup of tea. She supposes she could have grabbed the more benign sweats, but she doesn’t want to look for them.

He’s done as she asked when she gets back, but other than he doesn’t seem to have moved. Kitty sits down next to him and tries to tug his arms away from his sides.

“Tea.” she says. “Drink that and don’t move.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallows down everything she wants to say to him

_You bloody **idiot** , why didn’t you tell me?_

and makes him tilt his head back.

It’s a good half-hour before he’s cleaned up to her satisfaction. It was a silent half-hour, too-Kitty doesn’t recall him saying anything apart from his quiet apology. He didn’t even argue when she handed him the Sabbath pajamas.

The pajamas are too big on him, and she has trouble wrapping her head around the picture, but she puts those thoughts out of her head.

“Can you talk about it?”

His hands are still wrapped around the mug and he doesn’t look at her.

“She was angry.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

He shrugs and sets the mug down. Kitty is expecting him to leave, or maybe launch into a melodramatic explanation. He hugs her instead.

What is she supposed to do? Jonathan Crane is not a huggy individual. He doesn’t particularly like to be touched, let alone squeezed.

She hugs him back, unnerved and half-expecting to wake up from this dream. This has to be a dream.

“Jonathan?”

“No more.”

Now would be a good time to get the whole story, but she doesn’t have the heart. To be honest, she doesn’t know if she _wants_ the whole story.

“Okay.” she says softly. “No more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct your pitchforks and torches at DC, please. I did not come up with this. It is not my fault. I sure as hell enjoyed writing it, though. :D


	12. Chapter 12

Kitty hasn’t moved all night. Her back is sore, and her butt is asleep, but moving will be a mistake. She doesn’t know how she’s going to tell her mum that she can’t go in today. It’s only five-thirty, she’ll worry later.

Jonathan hasn’t moved either, but that’s because he fell asleep. Kitty considered moving him and ultimately left him.

This is the most intimate she’s ever been with anyone, ever, including that time she snuck off with Tommy Nelson. The others may have a guess at what goes on, but she’s pretty sure they don’t know the half of it. The revelation terrifies her.

“Sorry, Kitty.”

He scares her.

“Don’t be sorry.” She moves a bit. “It’s not your fault.”

He shrugs. Any minute now he’ll wake up properly and pull back.

Any minute now.

Or not.

“Your parents are going to kill me, aren’t they.”

“They don’t know you’re up here.”

He shrugs and presses up against her side. This isn’t right. The Jonathan she knows is not this emotional.

“I want her dead.” His voice is very quiet. “I can’t take much more of this.”

“Why.”

“My mother.” He swallows. “My parents weren’t exactly married.”

“That’s not a very good excuse.”

“It works for her.”

He finally sits up and leans against the wall. Now her side is cold.

“Can’t the police…”

“You think they care?”

“But…”

“They don’t care, Kitty.” He rubs his head, mussing up his hair in the process. “I’m fine.”

“Like _hell_ you’re fine!” she hisses. “She locked you in there to be eaten by birds!”

He grimaces.

“It’s happened before. I’m fine.”

“Jonathan…”

“Murder is a sin. She won’t kill me, she doesn’t want to go to Hell.”

“She’s going anyway…”

“Not in her opinion.”

Her parents are starting to move around downstairs and Kitty sighs. She’s going to have to make this convincing.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I have to go home…”

“You will do no such thing.”

He doesn’t argue. Kitty shuffles downstairs, hoping her sleepless night will pass as a cold.

“Mum?”

“Kitty! You look horrible!”

“Jonathan got me sick.” He’s the only one available to blame. “I don’t wanna go to school.”

“Go back to bed.”

She feels guilty for lying, but not guilty enough to take it back.

Jonathan hasn’t budged when she comes back up. He’s on his own to explain his absence.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He blinks a few times. “What did you do with my glasses?”

“I took them off when you fell asleep.”

“Where did you put them?”

Where did she put them…ah. Nightstand. Right.

She gives them back and looks outside. There’s no sign of Mrs. Keeney-why should there be?-but she’s still paranoid.

“She won’t come looking for me.”

“She won’t?”

“No.” Well. That’s reassuring. Depressing, but reassuring. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

“A little…”

“Lying doesn’t suit you.” Pot, meet kettle. “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He’d better be, or she’ll hunt him down and drag him back.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t trust him. After a minute pondering the situation, she makes herself comfortable against his shoulder. He stiffens up before leaning back against the wall.

“Good night, Kitty.”

There. Now he won’t disappear. He’s not very comfortable-much too boney-but she can manage.

“Night, Jonathan.”

* * *

            He shouldn’t be here. He really, really shouldn’t be here. He should be at home, in bed, debating on whether or not to go to school.

He would have gone, he decides. He has nothing else to do and the scratches aren’t that bad. Granny didn’t leave him there for very long, which is unlike her. He wonders if she knows that Kitty knows. She knows everything else, why not that?

His arm has long since fallen asleep. Why does she have to be _on_ him? He isn’t going anywhere! He’s not stupid enough to go anywhere when she’s more panicked than he is.

He has to admit, she is very warm. It’s rather enjoyable.

Her arms tighten uncomfortably around his ribcage and he winces. The pleasantly warm feeling is gone and now he just wants her to let go.

“Jonathan, please…”

What…nightmare. Should he wake her? That can’t be a good idea. Maybe he can poke her a few times and she’ll wake up on her own.

Poking only makes her squeeze him harder. Ow. She’ll break a rib if she doesn’t let go.

“Kitty?” He tries to dislodge her and fails. “Kitty. It’s a nightmare. Wake up.”

This has gone far enough. What does she want, to bring her parents up here? He can’t explain this, and he doesn’t really want to try.

“Kitty.” He gets his free arm between them and tries to pry her off. “Wake up.”

She flies back with a startled gasp, blinking wildly. Before he can move, she flings her arms around his neck. What is she _doing_?

“Kitty…”

“You were dead.”

Oh, for the love of…

“I’m not dead.” Although he will be if she doesn’t loosen her grip. “I’m right here.”

She’s crying. This is awkward. What is he supposed to do now?

“Kitty?”

“You were dead!”

He sighs. How is he supposed to get through to her?

“I’m not dead.” he says again. “You’d know if I was.” She doesn’t let go. Now what? “Just go back to sleep. I’m fine.” Well, mostly fine. “Calm down.”

Her arms slide down a bit. Good. Now, if only he can get her to let go completely.

“Promise?”

What does she think he is, a ghost? If Jonathan is to come back as a ghost, he won’t be here. He’ll be haunting dear old Granny, or maybe some of his classmates.

“Yes, yes. Promise.”

Her arms settle down around his ribs. He suspects he’ll have to make do with that.

“Night, Jonathan.”

At least he has his arm back.


	13. Chapter 13

Kitty knows she’s being silly. Jonathan has survived seventeen years without her. Besides, the scratches weren’t _that_ bad.

They’re hiding by the abandoned chemistry building right now. Jonathan’s leaning up against the bricks, but Kitty would rather not. They’re grimy and there’s probably bugs living in the cracks.

God, that nightmare…she won’t tell him how bad it was, but she won’t forget it for a while. The distorted image of his dead body is burned into her brain. It didn’t help that the birds had pecked his eyes out.

“Kitty?”

“Mm?”

“Are you all right?”

She’s been spacing off again. How long has that been going on?

“Fine.”

They haven’t talked about the other night at all. She doesn’t know how to bring it up and he certainly isn’t going to.

“Tired?”

“A bit.”

He sighs and tilts his head back. Kitty wonders what is so fascinating about blue skies.

“I want her dead.”

“Jonathan?”

“It’s not enough to get out. She’ll never let me leave.” His voice is flat. “You know she won’t.”

She agrees. The woman is obviously insane.

“I know.” She leans against his shoulder. “How are you going to get out?”

He shrugs.

“Maybe she’ll fall down the stairs.”

Is he joking? She can never tell if he’s joking or not.

“Maybe.”

“Would you turn me in for murder?”

He’s joking. There’s no way he can be serious.

“No.”

“That’s nice.”

He _is_ joking, isn’t he?

“Why do you ask?”

“Just a hypothetical question.” He sighs and lets his head drop. “That’s all.”

It’d better be. She doesn’t know if she’ll like being an alibi or something.

The subject is dropped and she closes her eyes. Weird as it may be, she could fall asleep right now.

Her plan to do so is ruined when the bell rings. She’s really starting to hate that bell.

“Come along.” No. “Kitty. Let me up.”

* * *

            Jonathan was only half-joking. He’s often considered what he would do if she fell and broke her hip or something. Once or twice, usually when he has to spend a night _there_ , he’s wondered what it would be like if there was an accident. Perhaps an tumble down the staircase, or a fall out in the chapel. The latter would be poetic, but the former would be faster. Hypothetically, of course.

He’s lying on his bed, listening to her move around downstairs. He’s still sore from the other night, but most of the cuts are healing nicely.

If he’s going to be honest, he’s mostly listening for the sound of a fall or other painful mishap. He can always dream, can’t he?

He finally manages to drift off, but his sleep isn’t a good one. It’s filled with nightmares about birds and screams and a laughing scarecrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder is not to be joked about, Jonathan, don't you know that?
> 
> Okay, maybe sometimes, but not by you.


	14. Chapter 14

“God, love, you look awful.”

“Rough night.”

“How rough?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

She doesn’t believe that, but she doesn’t see any new scratches or bruises. She’ll have to believe him, at least for now.

“Oh.”

The scarecrow looms over them like some sick sentry. Kitty wonders why they’re hiding down here instead of sitting inside. It’s a hot Saturday afternoon, for crying out loud! Surely some lemonade would be nice.

“Why are we outside?”

“Because my grandmother will be _very_ upset if she sees me with you.”

Oh, dear god, wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

Well. This is interesting.

“If you say so.” She yawns and nearly inhales a stray blade of grass. “Why? Am I a bad influence? Because my cousin’s worse.”

“I don’t know why.”

“I was only joking. Well, not about my cousin. She really is worse.”

He shakes his head at her. Fine.

The scarecrow seems to leer at them and she wishes they could go in.

“Jonathan?”

“Mm.”

She forgets what she was going to ask him when there’s a scream from his house. She’s up immediately, but he doesn’t even sit up.

“Jonathan!”

“I heard.”

Then why isn’t he doing anything? The old crone may deserve to die in a hole, but he should at least keep up appearances.

He stretches out and takes a deep breath. The voice screams his name again and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine, fine.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“It’s best if you…if you don’t.”

Oh. Right.

“Tell me if you need anything.”

“Jonathan Crane!”

“I will.” He shakes his head. “Coming, Granny!”

* * *

            It turns out that Granny has taken a small fall in the kitchen. Unfortunately, sheer spite and determination helped her crawl to the porch and shout for help. Even more unfortunately, Kitty’s mother lets him use their telephone to call an ambulance.

He could have just left her there, but someone else might have heard the screaming. Besides, Kitty might have told her parents about it.

He’s sitting on the porch now, drinking sour lemonade. It’s better than nothing. Besides, Granny told him to get her a glass and he said no. Her cane is still in the house somewhere, so he can enjoy the moment. If he’s obscenely lucky, something poisonous might bite her while they’re waiting.

He’s not that lucky, unfortunately. Oh, well. He can dream, can’t he?

He hates to call the white building a hospital, because it really isn’t, but there’s no other word for it. All the same, it doesn’t have a sterilized smell, or typical hospital noises, or anything like that. The ‘ambulance’ is technically a retired hearse.

He’s stuck in the waiting room for half an hour before they come back and report that they’re keeping Granny overnight. How is he supposed to get home? He’d better start walking, he figures.

He has to admit it’s nice to have the house to himself. He still hates the place, but at least he can read without Granny bursting in on him.

He’s bored now and a little bit hungry. Boredom wins out and he goes out to poke around a little. He’s never been alone for this long before. There’s a lot of rooms he’s never been into, for fear of retribution, but she’s not home and won’t be until tomorrow. Should he or shouldn’t he?

Might as well. If he’s careful, she’ll never find out.

The top floor of the mansion smells of mold and decay. Most of the rooms are storage-one has bundles of old clothes, and another was once a child’s room. The child’s room gives him the creeps, really-the dusty porcelain doll in the rocking chair needs to blink.

His eyes aren’t that creepy, are they?

He backs out of the room and shuts the door, just in case the doll gets up and follows him. That’s a ridiculous idea, but still. He doesn’t trust it.

A few more rooms contain old furniture and pictures-he doesn’t recognize anyone in them-and then he stumbles across _the_ room.

He remembers Granny taking him aside and telling him that she would have him stoned to death if he put one toe in this room, and he hasn’t wanted to test that theory. But now she’s not home and he can risk it.

The door is locked and he frowns at it. He doesn’t know where the keys are and he wouldn’t touch them anyway. Maybe he should just walk away.

He should, but he doesn’t. What is she keeping in there? Skeletons?

He ends up getting a fork and sticking it into the lock. These doors are old, how hard can this be?

Hard. It takes twelve minutes to open the door and when he does, he’s showered in dust. When he finally manages to breathe again, he nearly forgets to do so.

The room is filled with books. Wall to wall, ceiling to floor…they’re everywhere. Jonathan has never seen this many books in his life.

He steps inside and scans the shelves. The books are covered with dust and he suspects that insects and rodents have been in here. It doesn’t matter. He’s still going to look.


	15. Chapter 15

            “So? Any boys?”

Kitty sighs. Her cousin is boy-crazy in the nicest possible sense.

“I don’t know. Sort of. Who’s your fuck of the week?”

“Hey! Three months, I’ll have you know. And his name’s Jackson. You’d never guess his last name.” Oh, no. “Rippner. Isn’t that unfortunate?”

Kitty grimaces. That’s terrible.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! Poor baby. I felt so bad for him at first.”

“He’s not a serial killer, is he?”

“I don’t think so. He’s a student. From America.”

“Georgia?”

“No. I don’t know where. What d’you mean, sort of?”

What exactly is Jonathan to her? Friend? Yes. Anything else? No clue.

“It’s complicated, Jill.”

“Explain.”

“It’s a long story.”

Her cousin makes her tell it anyway. It takes about ten minutes-ignoring the really important stuff, of course. By the time she’s through, all is silent on the other end.

“Marry him.”

“What?”

“How many guys do you know that have manners? Marry him.”

God. Kitty rolls her eyes and wonders if her cousin is slightly insane. Scratch that-she must be. Who else would date a guy named Jackson Rippner?

* * *

            She’s going to die.

Seriously, she’s going to die. She’s been trapped on this chair for ten minutes, armed with nothing but an ugly shoe. The cockroach keeps skittering back and forth, keeping just out of reach. Can these things fly?

There’s a knock on the door. Rescue!

“It’s open!” The cockroach scuttles under the table. Little fucker.

“Kitty, you’d never…what are you doing?”

“Cockroach!” she squeaks. “Get rid of it!”

“It’s an insect.”

“It’s out to get me!”

Jonathan pries the shoe from her hand.

“Observe.”

_Thwack!_

“Is it dead?” She’s not coming down unless it’s dead.

“Yes.”

It looks dead, anyway. It’s very flat and guts are spilling out of the sides. It’s safe to come down now, then.

“Really?”

“It was chasing me!”

He shrugs. She gets a wad of paper towels to pick it up. He can laugh all he wants, but he didn’t see.

“Do you really need that much?”

“Yes.”

He waits for her to drop the wad in the trash bag before all but dragging her out the door. What is he doing? Should she scream for help? Dear God, her friend has become a kidnapping serial killer!

“Jonathan!”

“Shh, do you want to wake her up?”

So he’s kidnapped somebody else?

“What are you doing?”

“You have to see this.”

“What, a cheerleader in your basement?”

He snorts. Kitty notices that he’s dropped her wrist and she’s still struggling to keep up with him. Damn him and his longer legs. This isn’t fair.

“Jonathan…”

“Shh. Granny’s asleep right now. Come in and be quiet.”

She’d be willing to cooperate if he would tell her what’s going on. All the same, he sounds excited-who is this and what have they done with Jonathan Crane?-and she nods.

His house is kind of creepy, to be honest. It’s all dark and scary and going into it feels like going into a big mouth.

“Where are we…”

“This way.”

Is this how a lamb feels when it’s being led to slaughter? It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, but this is _very_ unlike him.

He leads her into a room and she feels her jaw drop. Books. Books everywhere. This is amazing! His house is cool!

“Wow.”

He leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Kitty wonders how he missed all this.

“This is amazing.”

“Yeah.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “What do you think?”

“This is amazing.” she says again. “You didn’t know?”

“I’m not supposed to be in here.”

What will happen if they get caught? Will they both be locked up in the crumbling chapel with the birds?

“What…”

“She’s asleep.”

For how long? How does he know that she won’t creep down the hall and lock them in here to starve? Would she resort to cannibalism? Jonathan looks a bit too skinny to bother eating, but…

She shakes her head to clear the morbid thoughts and looks at the books again. There’s so many. She’s never seen this many, even in the really old library she went to on a field trip. How old are these?

There’s a sound from downstairs and Jonathan grimaces. A second later he’s pulled her out and shut the door.

“You have to go.”

She doesn’t answer him.

* * *

            God, spare him the agony of Granny.

She has somehow blamed him for her fall, insisting that his being the son of a whore angered God enough to make her slip. Therefore, she locked him in his room with no dinner and a handful of bruises from that damn cane.

He can’t sleep. She went to bed a few hours ago, but he can’t even stay still. It’s too cold in here.

He’s tired. His lungs feel like they’re being crushed no matter what position he lays in. Said positions are limited because of the bruising, which is mostly on his ribs. Ohh, why can’t it be Sunday and not Saturday?

He shivers and rolls onto his back. The cracks on the ceiling seem to have grown, but it could just be the shadows from the moonlight.

Why can’t he sleep? He needs it, and he wants it, but it’s just not happening. Why is that?

He shivers again and closes his eyes. He’ll just have to lay here all night, apparently.

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty's cousin Jill has her own story. Maybe I'll put it here someday.


	16. Chapter 16

Jonathan isn’t at school on Monday.

If Kitty had still been in the dark, she wouldn’t have worried. But she isn’t, and she can’t help it.

_Jonathan, where are you?_

She’s not sure if she’s more worried for his safety or for hers. Sanchez has been eyeing her all day, more so than usual. It’s a pity she can’t go home sick.

She spends lunch and study hall hiding in the library, but there’s a group activity in biology. And guess who she gets stuck with?

Sanchez. What fun.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Ugh. What a slimeball.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

That shuts him up for a little while, but it doesn’t last. Of course it doesn’t last, that would mean that the universe cares about her.

“No Scarecrow today?”

She wonders how much pressure it would take to drive the scalpel into his neck. Too much, especially with the height difference.

She ignores him, making a quick little cut across the frog’s belly. Sanchez laughs at something his friend says and looms over her. Perhaps she’ll aim for the stomach…

“Did you two have a fight?”

Maybe a little lower than that.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Leave me alone.” It’s an effort to keep her voice and hands steady. “I’m not interested.”

“I could’ve warned you that hanging around with him would bite you in the ass.” Funny, who’s the would-be rapist in this situation? “But you didn’t want to listen.”

Her fingers tighten on the scalpel. It’s sharp, so sharp. It made quick work of the frog. What would happen if she slashed him across the belly? Would his guts spill onto the floor? Would he scream?

“Or did you wear him out last night?” His voice is angry now. “Is that it? You fuck him senseless?”

Enough is enough.

Kitty swallows down the insults and the urge to just _carve him into ribbons_ and removes the scalpel from the frog.

“I know just where to cut so you’ll bleed out.” she lies. “By the time they get you to the hospital, you’ll be dead. And I _will_ do it if you don’t leave me alone.”

Maybe it’s the scalpel or maybe it’s the scalpel’s close proximity to his crotch, but he shuts up. Good boy.

“Bitch.”

She’ll let that slide. She doesn’t really want to go to jail.

* * *

            Her parents drag her out to dinner at the local diner. She hates to call it a diner, really. It’s closer to ‘roach shack that serves runny eggs’. It’s an effort to be happy. The incident in biology scared her and she’s really starting to worry about Jonathan.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, Mum.”

“Kitty…”

“I’m _fine_ , Mum.” God, she wants to cry. What happened? Why is she so damned emotional? “Just drop it, okay?”

Dinner is silent after that. Kitty goes to bed around nine-fifteen, but she can’t sleep. The crows are silent tonight. Were they silent last night? Why can’t she remember?

Hopefully Jonathan will be back tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 17

Jonathan can’t breathe. His stomach feels like a knot and his head hurts. He’s dehydrated, as far as he can tell. And starving.

The door unlocks. What day is it?

Granny doesn’t come in and he waits a minute before getting out of bed for a drink. Standing makes him dizzy and for a minute he wonders if he’ll faint. Where is Granny? Shouldn’t she be down here, yelling at him?

Several glasses of water and half a pack of saltines later, his headache is improved. He knows he’ll be sick later, but he couldn’t help it. At least now all he has to deal with is his inability to breathe.

_Kitty’s room was warm._

Granny’s not down here. She won’t know if he sneaks out. He could feasibly risk it.

Fine. He’ll risk it, but only because he’s desperate. He won’t even mind if she hugs him. At risk of sounding pathetic, he wouldn’t mind the hug too much. It would be a nice reminder that _someone_ cares about his well-being.

The door creaks and he freezes solid, but she doesn’t come. He’ll have to hurry, then.

The scarecrow seems to follow him until he makes a run for it. Running makes him cough.

He could throw rocks at her window, he supposes, but that’s too Romeo for his liking. He’ll just climb up. Hopefully she’s not having a heart-to-heart with her mother or something.

She isn’t, but she jumps a mile when he knocks on the glass. She lets him in, though, and that’s all that really matters.

“Jonathan…Jesus…where have you been?”

He’s tired and doesn’t feel like explaining. Can they do this later?

“M-my room.” he murmurs. “Can I stay here? Please?”

He coughs and she suddenly hugs him. He was lying earlier-he does mind the hug. When will she let go?

“Sure.” she says softly. “Lay down.”

On what, the bed? Surely they’re not going to…this is not what he had in mind.

“Um…”

“Really? On top of the covers, then.” She leaves and comes back with a wooly blanket and another pillow. Okay.

“Th-thanks, Kitty.”

He really is tired. And he doesn’t feel very well.

“Shh. Just go to sleep.”

He still can’t breathe, but at least he’s warm.

“Kitty?”

She hugs him again and ruffles his hair. _Fine._ He likes it just a little bit.

“You’ve been out of school for two days.”

Two days? Really?

“I’m fine.”

She takes his glasses off. He’d forgotten he had them on. No wonder his vision wasn’t blurry.

“Go to sleep.” she says. “Night.”

He makes himself as comfortable as possible and wraps himself in the blanket.

“Thanks. Night.”

* * *

Kitty decides he doesn’t need to know about the biology class. It’s not that she thinks he’ll be jealous-although he might be-but he’ll worry and then he’ll drive her insane making sure she’s all right.

He fell asleep a little while ago, but she’s not so lucky. She’s not used to having someone else in her room, let alone a boy.

God, she can’t sleep. Partially it’s nerves, and partially it’s bad dreams. That nightmare from before has come back in full force-every time she closes her eyes, she sees it. Every damn time.

Jonathan coughs and rolls over and she opens her eyes again. He looks comfortable. Isn’t that nice.

She closes her eyes, sees the birds with the bloody beaks, and shudders. She won’t be sleeping tonight, she can tell.

She looks at the framed records on the wall. They’re just squares in the dark, like portals to some other world. The loud ticking of the clock doesn’t help.

It begins to rain, the drops going tap-tap-tap on the window. The sound is soothing and she closes her eyes again. This time she sees flapping wings. Fuck it.

She looks at Jonathan again. He’s hugging his pillow. At some point he tangled himself up in the blankets. He’s fine. Not even a scratch. Why wouldn’t he be fine?

_Because his grandmother would put medieval torture experts to shame?_

She shakes her head. He’s fine. He’s fine and she’s fine and now life will go back to the way it was last week.

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been staring until he says her name. Is he dreaming?

“Kitty.” No, he sounds like he’s awake. “Bad dreams?”

Something like that.

“Yeah.”

“Crows again?”

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to my world.” He yawns and closes his eyes again. “Go to sleep, we have school tomorrow.”

Right. School. Double biology. Fuck.

She hugs him, feels him flinch. Too bad. He may not like it, but she can’t sleep and she can’t be sympathetic when she’s tired.

He doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t pry her off. After what feels like ages but is probably fifteen minutes, he goes limp and his breathing softens. She hides her face in his shirt and squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe this will remind her paranoid brain that he’s just fine.

“Kitty.”

Now what? Can’t he just be quiet and tolerate the moment?

“Mm.”

“I feel like a teddy bear.”

“With half its stuffing ripped out.” she grumbles. “Go to sleep.”

He sighs and she wonders if he’s rolling his eyes at her. Too bad. She’s not letting go, so he might as well just get used to this. He’ll live.

“But…”

“Night, Jonathan.”

This time his sigh is more of a huff, but he doesn’t argue. She cuddles up against him and loosens her grip on his ribs. Maybe she won’t sleep tonight, but at least the birds are gone from behind her eyes. That’s enough.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the other day it was thundering-like, crazy bad thundering-and I was trying to read. So, JOKINGLY, I was all, 'Thor, quit throwing a bitch fit!'
> 
> Not three seconds after the words left my lips, there was this really big BOOM and it knocked the power out for about three hours.
> 
> Still not sure if that was the best or worst timing ever.

Jonathan didn’t sleep last night. His dreams were filled with a walking, talking scarecrow that whispered ‘murder’ in his ear. He won’t admit it to Kitty, but he was grateful for that hug. It didn’t protect him from his dreams, but it was comforting all the same.

Comforting or not, he’s stiff and sore this afternoon. It doesn’t help that the cough has gotten worse and that his eyes ache.

“You sound terrible.”

He feels terrible, thank you very much. There’s no need to remind him.

“Do I?”

“Are you sick?”

“Maybe.”

She drops the subject. Good.

School was misery. He suspects something happened while he was absent, but Kitty won’t tell him what. He’ll figure it out on his own, then.

He snuck up here around four. He supposes he could have knocked on the front door, but he’s not in the mood for questioning.

“What’s Scarecrow?”

What? How could she know?

“Why do you ask?”

“You were muttering about something called Scarecrow last night.”

“Just dreams.”

She leans against his side, her hand keeping the English book open in her lap. He doubts she’s actually reading.

“Jonathan?”

“Mm.”

She’s quiet for a minute and he wonders if she’s forgotten what she was going say.

“Are you going to die?”

That’s just ridiculous.

“No.”

She hands him the book and makes herself comfortable.

_Please, by all means, use me as one of those giant teddy bears._

“M’kay.”

“What are you doing?”

“Studying in comfort.” she mumbles. “Don’t move so much.”

Who’s comfortable?

He rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Kitty takes the book back and turns a page. Jonathan wishes she’d move.

She’s not going to move, apparently. Fine. He’ll just sit here and try to breathe and pretend there’s not a girl leaning against him.

The sun is beginning to set. Kitty drops the book and sits up. Finally.

“Are you staying over?”

He doesn’t know. On one hand, he doesn’t want to be hugged any more. On the other hand, her room is warm and his is not.

“Maybe. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I would’ve kicked you out by now if I did.”

True enough.

“Thank you.”

“I have to go down now. If you sneak back out and come around, you can have dinner with us.” His stomach clenches at the idea of food and he shakes his head. Kitty stands up and straightens her shirt. “All right. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She kisses his forehead and leaves. He can’t do anything but blink. What was that for? He can’t remember that ever happening before.

He flops back onto the bed and looks up at the ceiling. He’ll be honest, that scared him a little. He doesn’t like these… _feelings._ After senior year they’ll go their separate ways and never see each other again, and where will they have gotten him then? Nowhere. Feelings are not good things to have.

He might as well indulge them for a while. He’ll just have to remember that this is not permanent. How hard can that be?

* * *

Kitty has no intention of telling Jonathan anything about biology. She can take care of herself, thank you very much.

Dinner is terrible-Mum was experimenting again. Kitty wishes she would just cook something edible and be done with it.

She goes back upstairs to grab a shower. She doesn’t like to consider herself a coward, but she’s not looking forward to school tomorrow. She really, really doesn’t want to go. Maybe she’ll play sick…no. She’ll go. But she doesn’t have to like it.

Jonathan’s not in her room when she goes in and she wonders where he is. Then she spots a note.

_Had to go so Granny wouldn’t be suspicious. May or may not be back later. Don’t worry about me._

_-Jonathan_

She sighs and puts the note in her nightstand drawer.


	19. Chapter 19

Jonathan doesn’t want to be here.

It’s not just school, it’s this godforsaken town. For all their ‘praise the Lord’ bullshit, their imaginary friend has forgotten them. It hasn’t rained, no tourists come here, and _every single person_ is a complete idiot.

He supposes he’s being a little unfair. Surely there’s somebody here that has some semblance of intelligence.

Kitty doesn’t count, she’s not a native.

He’s coming up blank. God, he can’t wait to get out of here.

He plunks his head down on his desk, listening to the dry buzz of his teacher’s voice. He doesn’t care about Lincoln and the slaves. It didn’t do a thing down here, where the one black family they had was forced out within months.

“Mr. Crane?”

He hates that voice. It sounds like dead leaves.

“Yes?”

“Sit up.”

The class sniggers and he pulls himself upright. He doesn’t feel well. He doesn’t want to be here.

“Thank you.”

He’s tempted to just leave, but it’s not worth the grief he’ll get for it. He’ll stay here and hope that the imaginary God will strike somebody down with a lightning bolt. Or at least that the teacher will be hit with acute laryngitis.

His wish is not granted and he is trapped for another half-hour. If there is a God, he’s a sadistic bastard.

Kitty offers him a ride home and he takes it. Her mother, thankfully, is quiet throughout. He’s almost reluctant to get out-something feels wrong today-but he has to. He takes his time going up the drive.

Granny is waiting for him in the hall. Oh, dear. This can’t be good.

“What did I tell you about them, Jonathan?”

He looks at the cane and wonders if he can move fast enough to get back outside and just _run_.

“That I wasn’t to associate with them.” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it was just a ride home…”

“We’re not poor, Jonathan.” Oh, no? “You don’t need a ride home. Certainly not from _them_.”

He wonders briefly what her problem is and decides that she’s noticed they’re not church-goers.

“I’m sorry.” he says again.

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

“Granny, please…”

“Now, Jonathan.”

He goes upstairs. His hands are shaking.

The suit-the horrible, horrible suit-hangs in his closet. He puts it on as slowly as possible and shuffles back downstairs.

She grabs his arm, but she needn’t bother. He’s not stupid enough to fight her. Then she’ll just beat him over the head with her cane.

She doesn’t say anything on the trip out except that she would _never_ have disrespected her elders like this and that she’s not that surprised, given his parents. He knows enough to keep his mouth shut and hope the crows all died from illness or something.

She shoves him in and locks the door. The crows don’t look at him. He doesn’t move other than to sit down _very_ slowly. Maybe if he doesn’t move, they won’t come at him.

A few of them ruffle their feathers and caw, but that’s the extent of it. He hugs his knees and looks at the floor. He’ll just be very still. And quiet, he can’t forget to be quiet.

_God, please help me._

* * *

The sun sets. Granny hasn’t come to fetch him. The birds don’t seem to care about him. He’s grateful for that, if not a little suspicious.

He rests his head on his knees and hopes he won’t start coughing. There’s been a tickle in his throat for most of the afternoon, but so far he’s managed to swallow it down. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do that, though, especially without a drink.

A crow caws and he shudders. This place is so much worse at night. He still has nightmares about past nights spent in here, huddled in a ball and hoping the crows won’t tear him to shreds.

He takes his glasses off and tucks them safely away by the door. If he breaks any more pairs he’ll be in bigger trouble.

The tickle is growing and his chest feels tight. He tries to swallow, but that only makes it worse. There’s no stopping it.

His coughs echo in the old room. The sudden noise startles the black shapes in the rafters and he feels them looking at him. Realizing that he is here.

There’s a flutter, and the sound of claws leaving wood, and then they’re on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews let you give him a hug. He'll squirm and complain, but he can't kill you yet, so there's that.


	20. Chapter 20

Kitty is well aware that she looks ridiculous. Walking around the house like a ninja, armed with the heaviest shoe she could find…yeah. She looks like an idiot. Her cousin would fall over laughing if she could see her now.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” she calls softly. Hey, she already looks stupid. She might as well go all the way.

A flurry of movement catches her attention and she sees it. The mother of all cockroaches. They stare at each other for a second before Kitty’s nerve fails her. She flees for the couch.

She’s been there for five minutes before the cockroach scuttles in. Now it’s _on_. She’ll squash the little git into oblivion if it gets close enough.

Well? Is it going to get close enough or isn’t it?

Aanndd…yes!

She brings the shoe down and there’s an oh-so-satisfying squeaky crunch. It might get up again. Better whack it a few more times.

There. It’s in half. She gets a large wad of toilet paper and buries it in the trash can outside.

She’s in the kitchen, making a ham sandwich, when something **slams** into the window and falls to the ground outside. She drops her knife at the sound.

The something turns out to be a crow. It’s scrawny and its neck is twisted. For a moment she thinks of Jonathan, wonders how his weekend’s going, but she puts him out of her head. She can’t leave this here.

She takes it to the trash and drops it in before going to wash up and finish making her sandwich.

* * *

Jonathan looks in the mirror. It wasn’t as bad this time, all things considered.

He’s covered in scratches, some deeper than others. He managed to protect his face and hands, but his back is speckled with them. It could have been worse. It _has_ been worse. The scars on the rest of him will attest to that.

He drops the bloodstained washcloth in the sink. It makes a nasty plopping sound and he grimaces. Pink water swirls down the drain when he turns the tap on and he cringes. This is the part he hates the most, watching his blood swirl down the drain.

He gets a fresh washcloth and wipes his face to try and bring himself back to reality. The washcloth is scratchy, like straw. If he closes his eyes, he can be fooled into thinking that the scarecrow has come into the house. He doesn’t close his eyes.

He forces himself to stand up and pull a loose sweatshirt over his head. It brushes against the scratches, but his expression doesn’t change. It can’t. Nobody can know. The teachers are bound to report this sort of thing, no matter how little they care.

There. Perfectly normal. Nothing’s wrong.

He retreats to his room and falls onto the bed. The movement sends shooting pains in different spots on his back, but he ignores them. Forcing dinner down was worse than this. The mere memory of the watery soup makes his stomach hurt.

He pulls the blankets up over his head and closes his eyes.

Nothing’s wrong.

* * *

_Someone’s calling his name. The scratchy voice wakes him from sleep and he’s more than a little resentful about this._

_“Jonathan.”_

_“Go away.”_

_“Come see.”_

_He’s not going to get any peace unless he goes, is he?_

_He gets out of bed and opens his door. He is greeted by a trail of blood. The smell makes him gag and choke and that in turn makes him cough._

_“Jonny, come here.”_

_That voice again. Is the voice the cause of the blood?_

_He goes downstairs, being careful not to step in the sticky red ribbon, and feels bile rise in his throat._

_Granny is seated in her favorite armchair, her hands folded neatly on her cane. Her head is tilted forward. Blood is streaked across her dress. He wants to vomit, but more from the stench than the subject matter._

_“Do you like it, Jonny?” He can’t see anyone. Is he next? “Do you like what I did?”_

_“Who’s there?”_

_“You’ve forgotten about me.”_

_He sees something moving outside. Anything for an excuse to get out of here. He runs for the door and bursts outside._

_“Who’s there?”_

_A tall, thin figure comes towards him from the cornfield. Jonathan scrambles back into the house and slips in the blood. It’s on his hands and his shirt and oh, dear Jesus…_

_“You forgot me.” The figure looms over him and shakes its head. “That will never do, Jonny-boy. I need you as much as you need me.”_

_“Who are you?”_

_It realizes that he doesn’t have his glasses and bends closer._

_“Scarecrow.”_

_Then he does vomit._

* * *

Jonathan bolts upright, coughing and sputtering and scarcely able to breathe. He hasn’t had a nightmare that vivid in years.

He’s soaked with sweat and now he can’t fall back asleep. Maybe a change of clothes…

They don’t help. All his thrashing around reopened the scratches and by the time he pries the sweatshirt off he’s fully awake. Damn.

What time is it? With his luck it’ll be three in the damn morning and he won’t get _any_ sleep.

The clock chimes midnight and he grimaces. It may be late, but his room is suffocating him and that scarecrow outside seems to be staring at him. He can’t stay here.

Kitty’s window is open-what an idiot, doesn’t she know that people can climb?-and he slips in without a word. She’s asleep. Fine. He won’t wake her, not for this. Besides, he’s too sore to handle the hug that will surely occur.

He settles down against the wall and closes his eyes. The nightmare hasn’t faded at all and he thinks he’ll remember it for a long time to come.


	21. Chapter 21

Kitty isn’t expecting to wake up to Jonathan. He scares her. When did he come up here? The fact that he can come in without waking her is unsettling.

He’s awake, surprisingly enough, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at the window.

“Jonathan.” Her voice is croaky. “When did you get here?”

“Last night.” He swallows hard. “S-sorry. I had nowhere else, I…”

Poor love.

“It’s all right, it’s all right.”

He rolls onto his stomach and closes his eyes. Something’s wrong, she can just _tell_.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes open again. They’re confused.

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

“Kitty…”

“Tell me.”

He sighs and for a minute she wonders if they’re moving or something. Then he hugs her. What is he doing? Oh, god, they really are moving…wait. Wait one minute. If he thinks this is going to distract her, he’s got another thing coming.

“Jonathan.”

“Mm.”

“What’s going on?”

“This isn’t going to work, is it.”

“No.”

He lets her go and settles back onto his side of the bed.

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“Rubbish.” He is the sanest person that she knows. If he’s going crazy, then the world is ending. “You’re just fine.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m going insane. I had a dream last night…there was so much blood…”

He hugs her again, but this time it’s a proper one. He’s shaking and it takes her a minute to realize that he’s _sobbing_. What’s going on?

“Jonathan?”

“I’m losing my mind.” He tightens his grip on her shoulders and whispers, “I’m going crazy, Kitty.”

“All right, love, you’re all right.” First things first. “You’re all right. Come on, just breathe.” He coughs. What should she say? What is there to say? “You’re okay.” she says again. “You’re just fine.”

He finally eases up on her, but he doesn’t pull back and he doesn’t let go. She ruffles his hair. She can feel tiny scars under her fingertips and wonders where he got them. Birds? Or something else?

“It’s okay.” she says again. “It’s okay, I promise, you’re okay.”

He sighs and rests his head against her shoulder. She stops talking. Is he going to calm down now?

“There was so much blood.” he murmurs. “It was all over the floor a-and I fell in it. You didn’t see…”

Of course she didn’t see, this was a dream!

“It was a nightmare.”

“She was dead.”

There’s only one _she_ he can be talking about.

“Just a dream.”

“Th-there’s more. When I was a little kid, I had an imaginary friend called Scarecrow.” So? She’d had an imaginary friend called Lucifer-Disney’s fault completely-and turned out fine. “He killed her.”

“Jonathan…”

“D-does that mean I killed her? Technically?”

How the hell should she know? She’s not a shrink!

“It was just a dream.” she soothes. “That’s all. You’re sick and you had a nightmare.”

He shivers. Kitty ruffles his hair again. She feels a little guilty for enjoying this, but she can’t help it. This _never_ happens and she means to make the most of the experience.

“It’s not just that.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t thought about him since I was seven. I’m a bit old for imaginary friends.”

“Just calm down. You’re fine. You’re not going crazy.”

He doesn’t say anything. They lay there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you lot will like Scarecrow, when you finally meet him. He'll like you, but he's personable like that.


	22. Chapter 22

“Hey, Scarecrow!”

Jonathan grimaces and ignores the voice. He’s exhausted and more than a little concerned for his sanity. The dreams have been getting worse. Last night Scarecrow’s voice was coming from inside his head.

“Hey!”

Someone grabs his shoulder and forces him to turn around. He stays limp-if they shove him over it’ll hurt less.

“Can I help you?”

“Answer me when I talk to you.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes and looks at the hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t care who grabbed him, he just wants them to let go.

“What do you want?”

“Your history notes, Scarecrow.”

Idiot. He didn’t take notes in anything today. He doesn’t feel well enough to bother.

“I don’t have them.”

“Your problem, not mine.” There’s a locker against his back-oww-and his glasses slide down his face. “Get them.”

“I didn’t take any.” A lock digs into his spine and he jerks his head to try and replace his glasses. The lock digs deeper, opening a cut.

“Listen, Scarecrow…”

“Mr. Finch!” He is released. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just jokin’ around. Right, Jonny?”

Jonathan steps away to grab his books and go. He doesn’t say anything.

_Sorry bastard. He’ll probably end up married to some girl he knocked up, with two screaming kids and a dead-end job. Maybe he’ll even cut his wrists, do all of us a favor._

* * *

            “Everything’s cozy-comfy between you and Scarecrow?”

Kitty tightens her grip on her books and walks a little faster. Sanchez has no trouble keeping up with her.

“Answer me, Kitty-cat.”

If he calls her that again, she’s not responsible for what happens.

“Piss off.”

“Things still rocky, huh?”

Just keep walking, just keep walking…

“Hey.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she jerks away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

She might get detention for this, but she can’t bring herself to care. If it’ll get her point across, detention is worth it.

She kicks him in the crotch and darts into the crowd, clinging to her books. Hopefully that’ll leave a mark, the sorry bastard.

Once she’s safe in class, it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. She shouldn’t be laughing at someone else’s misery, but she can’t help it. Besides, he brought it on himself.

She sobers up before the bell rings. He’s not going to be happy. Maybe she should take to carrying mace with her from now on.

* * *

            “Any good?”

He should be grateful she doesn’t swing that baseball bat at random.

“Don’t _do_ that!”

He grins at her and drops into the rocking chair with a soft wince.

“Well?”

“It’s just a reread. So yes, it is.”

He tilts his head to read the title.

“ _Carrie_?”

“Yeah.”

“I hated that book.”

That doesn’t surprise her.

“So.” He leans forward. “How’s Sanchez?”

She freezes. How could he know? She can keep a secret just as well as he can. Besides, she can take care of herself.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Kitty…”

“I’m fine. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“You could at least tell me what’s going on.”

“Like you told me about _her_?” she hisses. “I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.”

“At least tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on!”

“So you two had a rather physical argument this afternoon for no reason?”

Shit. Witnesses. She’d be a lousy criminal.

“Self-defense.” she scowls. “Proof that I can take care of myself.”

Besides, he’s practically helpless. She, at least, doesn’t have glasses that will get broken.

He snorts and takes said glasses off. She goes back to her book. The crows caw at them and Jonathan shudders.

“That so?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You’re very…tiny.”

No, really? She had been unaware of that fact!

“Yes.”

That shuts him up. Good.

The crows caw again and he replaces his glasses. Kitty closes the book with a _clap_.

“I am going to take a shower.” she says. “Window’s open.”

He glances upwards and nods.

“Are you sure you can take care of yourself?”

If he questions that again she’ll have to prove it. She’ll feel guilty later, of course, but she’ll do it anyway. Maybe.

Or maybe not. Her conscience might not be able to take it.


	23. Chapter 23

“How is that comfortable?”

“How’s wha’ comfortable.”

“I’m not exactly pillow material.”

“Good enough.”

She imagines him rolling his eyes at her. He doesn’t move her, though, and that’s all that matters.

It’s finally starting to cool down. Sometimes they have an art class outside now.

Jonathan’s been having nightmares for the past two weeks. He won’t admit it, and she won’t tell him that she’s gotten very good at quieting him down without waking him. It’s starting to show, though, in the shadows under his eyes.

She’s tired too, although she can hide it better. If nothing else, sitting here with her face pressed against his jacket hides the worst of the eye bags and pallor. He’s really not that comfortable, but he’ll do. He’s better than the brick wall pressing against her spine.

She takes a deep breath and holds it. He smells of grass stalks and old books and…apples? Really?

Yes. Apples. Huh.

“Kitty?”

“Yes?”

“Why.”

“Why what.” God, can’t he just be quiet and enjoy the moment?

“Why are you laying on me?”

Technically she’s _leaning_ on him. Technically.

“Better than the wall.”

That gets a laugh out of him, weary though it is. _Now_ will he be quiet?

“Do you think that birds could kill a person?”

She shrugs. This is a rather morbid topic, isn’t it?

“I don’t know.” She closes her eyes. “Maybe.”

He moves a bit and folds his hands behind his head. He’s warm, but she doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be this warm. Or maybe she’s just cold-her father always says she has vampire hands.

“Why d’you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“That’s a pretty morbid thing to be curious about.”

“ _I_ didn’t memorize the Ripper letters.”

“Still.”

He chuckles and moves again. She wishes he would stop that. It’s very hard to get comfortable when he keeps moving.

“May I ask you something?”

If it’ll get him to hold still he can ask her anything.

Except about Sanchez. Or anything that might require her to answer, ‘yes, I strip-danced on a table last year’.

“Yes.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Roaches.”

“No, really afraid of.”

She’s afraid of roaches! God!

“Um...heights. Fire. Death, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know! I don’t think about these things.”

He sighs.

“What’s the worst thing you can imagine, then?”

She bites her lip and wonders why he wants to know.

“Something happening to my family. You know, a house fire or something.” Can they drop the subject now? “What about you?”

“Birds.” he says quickly. “I don’t like birds.”

She can see why.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” He unfolds himself and stands up. “We should start walking. The bell’s going to ring.”

Well. That was an interesting conversation.


	24. Chapter 24

Jonathan’s lying on his bed when someone calls his name. It isn’t Granny, and since there’s no one else in the house…

“Hello?” Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it. “Is someone there?”

**_Heya, Jonny-boy!_ **

The voice is not in the house. It’s inside his head. He’s dreaming, then.

“Go away. I’m trying to sleep.”

**_I can’t go away. I’m you._ **

“I’m not in the mood for this.” This is starting to creep him out. “Good night.”

**_You don’t know who I am, do you?_ **

“You’re a figment of my imagination, brought on by stress. Now go away, please.”

**_I’m afraid I can’t do that._ **

“Shut up, then.”

**_But I’m booored._** it whines. **_You never do anything interesting. No girls, no booze, no nothing! The least you could do is realize your friend has boobs and act on that._**

He rolls his eyes. Creeped out or not, this dream is also very annoying. He’s tired and in no mood for a scratchy voice in his head.

**_Come on, at least play I-Spy or something._ **

He pinches his wrist. It hurts. Should it hurt in a dream?

**_This isn’t a dream, Jonny. I’m right here._** He can almost feel scratchy fingers brushing against his cheek. **_Well, in a manner of speaking._**

Oh, God, this isn’t a dream. He’s lost his mind. Or…no! No, he’s fine. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s getting to him. Or maybe he has a high fever. That’s possible.

**_I’m insulted!_ **

He rubs his head-is it too warm?-and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s just sick, that’s all. This will all go away when he’s feeling better.

**_I’m not going anywhere, Jonny-boy. Just get used to me._ **

His head hurts. He wants this to stop. Please, God, make this stop.

**_Quit being such a pussy._ **

Why won’t it be quiet? What the hell is it? He’s been sick before, even to the point of hallucinating, and it was never like this.

He pulls the pillow over his head and tries taking several deep breaths. This has to stop. It will eventually, he knows that, but right now…

**_You’d better get used to it._ **

Any playfulness in the voice is gone. Jonathan cringes and grips the pillow tighter, drowning out the birdsong outside. Maybe if he can fall asleep, he’ll wake up and this will stop.

**_You can hope, can’t you?_ **

God, he’s lost his mind.

* * *

            He can’t sleep. The voice-Scarecrow-has taken to singing nursery rhymes. He’s never liked nursery rhymes.

Kitty. She’ll know something’s wrong, she always does. He has no desire to share the fact that he’s now insane with her. He can cling to the sick excuse for a little while, but he can’t be sick forever.

**_Aw, I wanted to meet her._ **

Somehow that sounds like a very bad thing.

**_Are you sure? I think we’d get along very nicely._ **

“No.” he whispers. “No, I don’t think that’ll work out.”

**_So I’ll have to introduce myself?_ **

Jonathan rolls his eyes and wonders how that’s going to work out. Right now all he has is a headache. Hopefully it’ll stay that way.

**_You can hope. You’re wrong, but you can hope._ **

He can hope? What’s that supposed to mean? God, what did he do to deserve this? Maybe Granny’s right.

**_You used to like me, Jonny. What happened?_ **

“You were an imaginary friend.”

**_Hey! I’m insulted._ **

Jonathan sighs. He’s tired. Why can’t this thing shut up and let him go to sleep?

**_Are you suure you want to do that?_ **

“Yes.”

**_Fine. Spoilsport._** The voice softens. **_You look awful anyway._**

Well. He’s heard worse.

He rolls over again and nestles into his blanket. Sleep. If he can just get a full nights’ sleep, this will all go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to appearances, I did do a fair bit of research on Dissociative Identity Disorder (split personality). I know it does not work this way. So we'll just...say this is similar but not exactly it.


	25. Chapter 25

“Look.”

Look at what?

“What.”

“It’s a rabbit.”

So?

“Yeah.”

“It’s cute.”

“That’s nice, Kitty.” Now will she go back to petting his head?

Her fingers resume moving and he closes his eyes again. He’s exhausted. Being exhausted is the only state of mind that will shut Scarecrow up. Now that his cold is gone, the straw man has been chattering _constantly_. The first thing he’s going to do upon leaving is find a decent psychologist and shut him up. After all, it’s only another year’s worth of sleeplessness.

It’s going to be a long year.

“You all right, love?”

“Tired.”

“Obviously.”

Why did she ask, then?

Oh, never mind. He makes himself a little more comfortable. Her lap is not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it’s better than lying in the dry grass.

“I meant other than tired. Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better not be fibbing.”

“I’m not.”

“If you say so.” Why can’t she believe him for once? Just one time, that’s all he’s asking. It’s not as though he has a hole in his throat and is asking her to believe that he’s fine.

She stops asking and he closes his eyes again. He’s tempted to fall asleep, but then Scarecrow will come back. Sleep is out of the question. He’ll just lie here with his eyes closed. Maybe that will be enough to stay awake tonight.

“Try to sleep.”

“No.”

“Jonathan…”

“ _No_ , Kitty.”

“Fine.”

Her fingers slow, but they don’t stop. He stays still and waits for the lecture. It doesn’t come.

They sit in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

            Try as he might, his body gives out eventually. He’s out cold by nine-ten.

_“I told you there was nothing you could do.”_

_Scarecrow slings his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders. The feeling is scratchy and unpleasant and he tries to pull away. Scarecrow doesn’t let go._

_“You could share a little, you know. Let me get a look at things now and then.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Let me take a walk around, talk to some people. It’d be fun.”_

_He finally does pull away. Scarecrow’s face seems to frown at him._

_“No.” he says softly. “I don’t think that’ll work.”_

_“Wake up, Jonny.”_

_“What?”_

_“Wake up.”_

He starts awake. He can’t see, but he can feel that he’s standing. Is he sleepwalking?

**_Not exactly. I brought us here._ **

He’s outside-he can feel the splintery wood under his toes. When did he come out here?

**_I told you to share. Didn’t dear old Granny ever teach you to share?_ **

“This can’t be happening.” he whispers. “I’m sleepwalking or something…”

**_So. Will you tell her or will I?_ **

“Please…”

**_God, you’re such a spoilsport. Fine. Take it!_ **

It figures he would get the most annoying voice his mind has to offer.

**_Just because you’ve had your sense of fun repressed doesn’t make me annoying._ **

He sighs and turns to go back in. It’s cold out here and he’s tired.

**_Are you sure you want to go to sleep? I could take us outside again._ **

He ignores that. He’s not going to sleep, just go back to bed and rest.

**_You will tell her, though? It’s quite rude to leave her in the dark about this._ **

So? She’s left him in the dark about something important. Besides, she’ll probably call the county asylum if she finds out.

**_Well, you’d better make nice to me, then. Seeing as we’ll be cellmates forever and ever._ **

No. There’s no way in hell that that’s going to happen.

He makes himself comfortable on his bed and closes his eyes. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine. He’s been through too much to _not_ be fine.


	26. Chapter 26

Jonathan isn’t nearly as good a liar as he thinks he is.

Either that, or Kitty has some sort of lie-detector-power. He’s not sure which.

“What’s going on, Jonathan?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

**_She’s good._ **

He clenches his teeth until his jaw aches and shakes his head.

“Nothing’s going on. Everything’s fine.”

“Jonathan…”

“I’m fine.”

She can’t know. She’ll call someone and they’ll lock him up. They’re already itching for an excuse, he knows that.

She shakes him a little and he looks at her.

“Jonathan.” Yes, that’s his name. “What is going on?”

**_Let me out, you little prick, we’ve waited too long!_ **

His head throbs and he closes his eyes. This is new. New and painful and terrifying.

“Jonathan?” There’s dry grass under his knees now. “Okay, it’s okay…I’m going to get the nurse…”

“No!”

“What’s going on?”

Then he’s falling.

* * *

“Hello, Kitty.”

It’s Jonathan’s voice, but…

“Jonathan?”

“He’s not here right now.”

It’s too scratchy. And something’s wrong with his eyes. They’ve gone cold.

“I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Who’s playing?”

What’s going on here?

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Scarecrow.”

“What are you?”

“I’m not possessing him, don’t fuss. We’re sharing now.”

“Stop.”

“You all have a problem with me!” He-it?-laughs. “Get used to me, Sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere…hey!”

She tenses, but there’s no need. The next voice she hears is unmistakably Jonathan’s, and he sounds scared to death.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting…”

“What the fuck is going on.”

He shrugs. She waits for him to try to explain.

Well?

“Answer me.”

“I told you I was going crazy.” he mumbles. “I was serious. I don’t know where he came from, but he won’t shut up.”

“You need to see someone…”

“No!” She flinches, expecting the whatever-it-was to come out again. “No, they’ll lock me up.”

“If you’re a danger to…”

“I’m not. Please believe me, Kitty, I didn’t want to tell you…”

“Shh-shh-shh. Okay. It’s okay.” Now what? It is most certainly _not_ okay. “It’s okay. Just…just give me a few minutes.”

She could tell her parents. She doubts that’ll turn out well, but it’s an option. The only other option is to talk to someone at school, and that _definitely_ won’t turn out well. Dammit. Why can’t she have a normal high school experience?

Oh, she’s going to regret this.

“You’re absolutely sure you’re not going to…um…” She lowers her voice. “Shoot up the school or something?”

He takes too long to answer, but he does say, “Yes.”

Yeah. She’s going to regret this.

“Okay.” He hugs her and she freezes. She can’t help it. “Jonathan…”

“Please believe me.”

Right now it’s still _her_ Jonathan, the sarcastic one that can be bribed with orange-cranberry scones.

“I do.” Mostly. “Just…just give me some time to get used to the idea. Okay?”

He nods.

“Okay.”


	27. Chapter 27

**_I think she likes me._ **

“She hates you. As do I.”

**_You…you hate me? Aw, Jonny, don’t make me cry._ **

“Go away.”

Scarecrow chuckles and Jonathan shakes his head. He’s been allowed to keep control for the past few days, but the voice in his head is _annoying_.

**_Why don’t you love me?_ **

Maybe if he doesn’t answer, Scarecrow will shut up. He can always hope, can’t he?

“Jonathan!”

He flinches and Scarecrow growls.

“Please shut up, I don’t want to get in trouble.”

He goes downstairs.

Granny is sitting at the table with a worn copy of the Bible in her lap. She doesn’t look happy, but does she ever?

“Jonathan.” she says crisply. “You’ve been up at night. Why.”

It isn’t a question. He’ll have to tread carefully.

“I haven’t been able to sleep.” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

**_Don’t be a sniveling coward, Jonathan! She’s an old crone, tell her to fuck off!_ **

_NO!_

“Stay in your room at night. You know the rules.”

“Sorry, Granny.”

**_Five minutes, Jonny-boy. Just give me five minutes with her._ **

_N-no._

But oh, it’s tempting. So very tempting.

“Go back to your room.”

He leaves without another word. That was a bullet dodged.

**_Let me at her! Just five minutes with that bitch, that’s all I’m asking!_ **

“No.” he whispers. “No, I can’t.”

**_Too scared? Pfft. Come on, Jonny, you won’t have to remember anything. I’ll keep it to myself, if you want._ **

“No. I’m not letting you out again.”

Scarecrow scoffs but shuts up.

* * *

            Jonathan scratches his palms climbing the gnarled old tree that night, but it’s worth it. Kitty’s made scones.

“Any good?”

“You should open a shop.”

“I burn ramen. This is the only thing I can make.” Oh. “How’s it going? With…um…him.”

**_See, she doesn’t hate me!_ **

_Shut up._

“He won’t shut up long enough to let me sleep.” He forces a laugh and leans against the wall, feeling the lingering summer heat in the bricks. “I’m fine. He’s…fine. Considering.”

“Have you tried sleeping pills?”

“Granny doesn’t have any.” That could be a lie-he’s never checked. If she did have them, she would notice if they were missing. “I’m fine.”

She flops down on the bed, her feet hanging off the end, and chews her lip. She’s annoyingly endearing when she does that.

“I’ve got some allergy medicine that makes you drowsy.” she says. “You could give that a try.”

He has no desire to start using drugs. He can manage this on his own, thank you very much.

“I’m fine, Kitty.”

She shrugs. He leans his head against the still-warm bricks and closes his eyes.

**_That’s right. Don’t put any of that shit in your veins, boy-o, it’ll get ugly._ **

Just for that, he should take something. Common sense wins out, however.

“Are you staying over?” He nods wearily. She gets up and takes her earrings out. “I’m going to take a shower. Get comfortable, if you want. Be back in a few.”

He watches her leave before pulling the drapes shut and standing up.

“Let me sleep tonight.” he says. “Please. We’ll both have a hard time if I can’t get some rest.”

**_Fine, fine. Baby._ **

He rolls his eyes at his reflection and falls onto the bed, the oversized shirt pooling around him. God, he’s tired. If he doesn’t get some sleep soon he’ll lose what’s left of his sanity.

Kitty comes back in, her hair slightly wet. Scarecrow approves. Jonathan wishes he’d shut up for once.

“Night, Jonathan.” she says.

“Night.”

She hesitates before saying, “Night, Scarecrow. Shut up for once.”

**_HEY! That’s it, I don’t like her anymore._ **

_I’ll take those allergy pills if you do anything._

That shuts him up. Jonathan closes his eyes and hopes that he’ll get some sleep tonight.


	28. Chapter 28

Jonathan’s been lying in the old chapel for two days. He doesn’t remember anything, because Scarecrow took over the minute the door shut. Whatever happened must have been bad, because he’s covered in blood and his glasses are broken.

**_It’s okay, Jonny. You don’t need to know._ **

“S-Scarecrow?”

**_It’s okay._ **

He leans against the wall and looks at the crows. They look right back at him without blinking.

“What happened?”

**_There’s some things you don’t need to know._ **

“Why are you keeping secrets from me?”

**_Because I don’t want you to break._ **

He doesn’t like that his own mind won’t tell him anything, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Thank you.” he mumbles. He means it, too. He’s more numb than sore, which is a first.

**_We can get along if you quit freaking out, you know._ **

“But…”

**_Shut up and go to sleep. She’ll be back eventually._ **

He doubts that, but there’s no point in arguing. He’s just starting to drift off when Scarecrow murmurs, **_We could kill her._**

“What?”

**_I’d do it if you’re squeamish. It wouldn’t be hard._ **

He hates her, yes, and he won’t be upset if she dies, but…murder? No, no, that’s not…no. He’d be caught in five minutes. In this town, they’re likely to lynch him. They’re already itching for an excuse.

**_We wouldn’t get caught. I’d make it look like an accident, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?_ **

“No.” he says firmly. “We’re not doing that.”

It’s then that he notices the blood and pieces of feather under his nails. Dear God, what did Scarecrow _do_?

**_Twisted a few necks, my boy. It kept them busy._ **

Jonathan feels sick. Scarecrow scoffs at him, but that scoff turns into an irritated snarl when he leans over to throw up.

**_You really are weak. How you managed without me all this time is a mystery for the ages._ **

He sits back, shivering and tasting bile. Scarecrow doesn’t say anything else and he is left alone with the birds.


	29. Chapter 29

Kitty doesn’t see Jonathan for almost a week. When he finally comes back to school, he and Scarecrow seem to have reached an understanding. She doesn’t want to know.

“So.”

“I don’t know, but he’s behaving.”

“That’s…that’s good.” She guesses it is, anyway. “He’s harmless, then?”

He glances at his hands and nods.

“Yes.”

He really needs to learn how to lie.

“You’re sure?”

“He won’t hurt you.”

But will he hurt someone else?

“Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?” She shrugs. “See you after class.”

* * *

            **_I don’t like this guy._**

_Shut up, he dislocated my finger last year. I don’t want to repeat the experience._

**_Can I meet him?_ **

Sanchez draws a finger across his throat and Jonathan rolls his eyes. Idiot. He doesn’t know what his problem is, but he honestly doesn’t…oh. _Oh_.

**_What? What’s going on?_ **

_He likes Kitty._

**_Somebody’s jealous._** Scarecrow sing-songs. **_I was beginning to wonder._**

_Shut up! He’s been stalking her._

**_I hate to break it to you, but you’re pretty pathetic. Not the knight-in-shining-armor type at all._ **

He just can’t catch a break! He glances at the teacher-busy telling off some idiot-and plunks his head down on the desk.

**_What? It’s true. Have you looked in the mirror lately?_ **

_I’m aware, thank you._

A rubber band hits him between the shoulder blades, setting off one of the worst scratches. He doesn’t look up. If he ignores them, they might bet bored. Granted, they haven’t gotten bored in eleven years, but he can hope.

**_God, you really are pathetic._ **

_Sorry for liking my limbs in one piece._

That doesn’t deserve a reply.

He rubs his head and sighs. He misses having his mind to himself.

* * *

**_We should scare him._ **

_With what, a dead snake? Yeah, that’s going to go over well._

**_Find out what he’s afraid of, then! How hard can it be?_ **

_Hard. I’d rather not get in grabbing distance._

**_Come on, it’d be fun._ **

Scarecrow huffs but shuts up. _Finally_.

The rain outside is making it hard to sleep. Being used as a teddy bear isn’t helping. It’s too hot to be used as a teddy bear.

**_Don’t complain._ **

_SHUT UP!_

Hopefully Scarecrow will actually stay quiet this time.

The rain sounds like wing beats and he keeps his eyes shut. If he can’t see them, he can remember that they’re not really there.

He wonders if Granny knows where he is. Hopefully not-he’s pretty sure she’ll stone him to death if she finds out. That’s in the Bible, isn’t it? For something.

Kitty’s arms tighten around his ribs and he winces. If she’s trying to crush him to death, she’s doing a good job.

If he stays still and breathes shallowly, he can get as close to comfortable as possible. The rain drums on, but at least Scarecrow is quiet. Well, mostly quiet. Jonathan’s just dropping off when he speaks again.

**_You’re going to grow a fucking spine if it’s the last thing I do._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that doesn't bode well.


	30. Chapter 30

Scarecrow wishes Jonathan didn’t need glasses. They’re a hazard, and the kid won’t shut up about getting them broken. If he keeps complaining, Scarecrow’s going to cut him off and not tell him anything. He doesn’t want to do that-secrets are a bad foundation for a relationship-but he will.

He ditched class-oh, how Jonny complained about that!-to seek out Sanchez. Forget finding out his worst fear. He wants to set the little punk straight. That’s why they make razors.

_You got a razor without telling me? Are you trying to get us arrested?_

**_Shut up, I’m not going to hurt him. Don’t look if you’re scared._ **

_I can’t help it! You’re using my eyes!_

God, what a wuss.

He finds Sanchez in an empty classroom, probably waiting for a girl. Jonathan says he’ll start carrying disinfectant from now on.

“Hello.”

“Get out of here, Scarecrow.”

**_Aww, he knows my name!_ **

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Sanchez snorts.

“I always knew you were queer. I’m not, so get out.”

**_What a dick._ **

_Yeah, so let’s go._

Scarecrow removes the razor from his pocket and unfolds it very slowly. Sanchez looks at it and bursts out laughing.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Do you like it?”

“What are you going to do? Kill yourself?”

Scarecrow closes the door and locks it. Sanchez frowns and goes to unlock it.

“Don’t touch it.”

He looks at the razor again and takes a few steps back.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching you a lesson.”

“Are you looking for a beating?”

“No. But you are.”

“What…”

Scarecrow dodges the fist thrown towards his face and springs, pressing the razor against the boy’s jugular. Sanchez goes as still as a statue. Good boy.

“You’re going to back off from now on.” he says softly. “Is that clear?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. If you say anything, I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Scarecrow lowers the razor and replaces it in his pocket. That was invigorating! He should do this more often.

He unlocks the door and slips out into the hallway, whistling. It’s time for lunch.


	31. Chapter 31

Well. As much as he hates to admit it, Scarecrow did him a favor. Neither Sanchez or his cronies have laid a hand on him in two weeks. Not bad. Not bad at all.

He’s a little worried that he doesn’t feel guilty for threatening him. Shouldn’t he have a conscience?

“Jonathan?”

“Mm.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

**_Are you gonna tell her?_ **

She yawns and stretches out in the grass beside him. He looks back at his house, wondering where Granny is.

**_Maybe she’ll die during today’s nap._ **

_I’m not that lucky._

“Where’d you get this?”

Get what…oh. Oh, boy. She’s looking at one of the scars on his wrist, the one that runs along the vein.

“Jonathan?”

“I was thirteen and desperate. And my hands were shaking.”

“Jesus.”

That’s all. Good. Hopefully she won’t ask any more questions about it. He doesn’t like to recall the whole event, thank you very much.

**_Then you shouldn’t have done it._ **

_Shut up, Scarecrow._

“You’re not desperate now, are you?”

He shrugs and closes his eyes again. The grass is itchy under his neck.

“I guess not.”

**_ “Jonathan!” _ **

What little peace there was is shattered. He looks back at his house and spots Granny on the porch, leaning against one of the columns. God, what now?

“I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“See you later.”

He pulls himself up and dusts the grass off himself. What does she want this time? He cleaned up yesterday, weeding and all, so what could she possibly want from him?

**_Who cares? Why don’t you just put your hands around her neck and squeeze and squeeze until her tongue swells up?_ **

Granny is sitting on the porch, a tall glass of iced tea in her hands. Scarecrow gags at the sight.

**_Yuck. Promise me you’ll never drink iced tea, Jonny._ **

It’ll remind him too much of Granny, probably.

“Granny?”

“Jonathan.” she croaks. “Sit down.”

He sits as far away from her as he dares. Her cane is leaning against her chair and he knows how fast she can grab it.

“I have to stay in town tonight.” she says. “Grace Adelaide isn’t well and I’d like to be with her.”

Oh, of course. One of her church-going friends. How she ever _made_ friends is a mystery to him. For that matter, how she ever had a husband is a mystery to him.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

_Pleasedon’thurtmethankyou._

“No.”

The disgust in her tone is enough and he drops his eyes to his hands.

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“No.”

_What did you want, then?_

**_Who cares? Just walk away, Jonny, what can she do about it?_ **

_That cane **hurts**. I don’t want another broken rib._

Scarecrow huffs. Jonathan twists his fingers into knots and Granny smacks his hands to make him stop.

“You will stay here tonight, to keep out trespassers.”

Trespassers? She thinks too highly of this old dump. Nobody wants to come up here. If they were being chased by a murderer, they would head for Kitty’s house first.

“Yes, Granny.”

“Good boy.”

**_What are you, her pet dog? She’s got you trained well enough, but still._ **

Granny gets to her feet and begins her trek down the path, looking for all the world like a harmless old woman. Jonathan shudders and stands up to go in.

**_Hopefully she’ll break her hip and starve to death._ **

An image flashes across his eyes, one that is decidedly _not_ Granny with a broken hip. It’s a picture from his nightmares. Blood.

“Stop.” his voice comes out choked and pathetic. “Please.”

The picture is gone and he is left alone in the dark hallway.


	32. Chapter 32

Granny’s not back yet. She’s never left him alone this long. The feeling of freedom is both exhilarating and terrifying.

He’s lying on the library floor with a pillow under his head and a glass of lemonade by his side. There’s so many books in here. He’ll never read them all, even if he stays here until Judgment Day. It’s paradise.

He found a copy of _Twice Told Tales_ buried up here a little while ago. It was dusty and the pages are falling out, but it’s clean and readable now.

He’s trying to listen for Granny, but it’s hard to concentrate when he’s doing that. He’ll hear her, he’s sure. Hopefully he will, anyway. In theory.

Scarecrow’s been awfully quiet since last night. Jonathan’s suspicious. Scarecrow is never quiet unless he’s up to something. Hopefully it’s nothing bad.

The front door opens and closes and he scrambles up, grabbing the pillow, lemonade, and book. He’s in his room by the time she arrives upstairs. He closed the library door, didn’t he? God, he can’t remember!

**_You did, don’t panic._ **

He shoves the book under his mattress and a minute later Granny is in his doorway, glaring at him. Hopefully there’s no dust on him.

“The house is still standing, I see.”

If she thinks he’s the type to throw wild parties, she’s going senile.

“Yes, Granny.”

“Watch your tone.”

**_What tone? If she wants a tone, I’ll give her a tone!_ **

“Sorry, Granny.”

“You’re on your own for supper.” she says. “If I find you did anything while I was gone…”

She leaves. Jonathan shudders. She’ll know, she always knows. He should have stayed out of there.

* * *

He’s asleep when his door flies open and he’s jerked out of bed. How is she so strong? She’s older than Jesus, she has no business being this strong!

“Jonathan Crane!” she screeches. “I told you to keep out of the upstairs room! I have told you that for seventeen years! And you _didn’t listen!_ ”

“Granny, please…”

“Get up! Now!”

He can’t see. He doesn’t need to-she’s dragging him downstairs and outside and then he’s in the chapel with the door locked behind him. For a minute he wonders if he’ll be safe from the crows, but then he remembers that they have good memories.

Scarecrow takes over and he’s suddenly buried in the recesses of his mind.

**_You can’t go on like this, Jonathan._ **

_I don’t have a choice._

**_I’ll deal with her. Just sit tight, kiddo._ **

He knows he should probably worry, but he can’t bring himself to care.


	33. Chapter 33

Jonathan fought him the entire time, but Scarecrow has finally managed to get control. He’ll give it back once he’s fixed things. Enough is enough.

He never could find the recipe Granny used to incite the crows, so he did the next best thing-blood. There’s all sorts of dead things lying about, after all. Road kill, rats in the trap, crows that hit the window…plenty of blood to go around. Jonathan doesn’t know about that part. Scarecrow thinks his OCD-ness would kick in and the kid would spend the rest of his life in the shower. What’s the fun in that?

He sets the bucket of cold, half-congealed blood by his side and begins whistling. Tonight’s the night!

“Oh, Granny?” he calls. “I think I need to show you something!”

She hobbles downstairs. He hopes she enjoyed it-she won’t be doing it again.

“What do you want?”

“Something’s outside, I think you should see it.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t really asking.”

“What…”

He grabs her. He knows he’ll leave bruises and for a minute he hopes he’ll break her wrist, too. She shrieks and tries to yank back from him, but he only tightens his fingers on her wrist.

“Jonathan Crane, unhand me right now!”

“Oh, I’m not Jonathan.” he says, shaking his head. “My name is Scarecrow.”

He hauls her outside, towards her favorite place. It’s only fitting that she’ll die in there, surrounded by her pets. He’ll have to go back for the bucket, he realizes. Oh, well. She can feel the anticipation, the _fear_ , for a few extra minutes.

“How does it feel, Granny?” he asks her. “Now you know how he felt every time you dragged him out.”

He goes to open the door and she jerks free, tries to run back to the house. She doesn’t make it more than three paces before he’s on her, clucking his tongue and frowning.

“Now, now, that won’t work. _Get in there!_ ”

He throws her in, watches her land on her back and cry out. What a lovely sound. What a shame he can’t record it for later.

He locks her in and trots back to the house, whistling an off-key hymn. Didn’t she always used to sing them?

_That’s enough, now go and let her out._

**_I’m not done. This is for your own good._ **

_Scarecrow!_

Spoilsport. He’ll thank him for this later.

He picks up the bucket of blood and returns to the chapel. The crows are perched on the roof, glaring at him with their black eyes. Scarecrow gives them the finger and makes his way up to join them. They flutter away when he does. Damn right.

He hesitates before dumping the bucket on the still-down hag. Why should he have all the fun?

**_Do it, Jonathan._ **

_Scarecrow, please…_

**_Grow a fucking spine and do it!_ **

For a minute he doubts the kid will take him up on that offer, but then he’s back in their head, watching Jonathan look at the bucket in his hands. Good boy.

**_Remember all the times she locked you in. Remember when it was snowing and you were sick? You could have died. She only let you out because the school was getting curious._ **

Jonathan doesn’t move for two long minutes.

**_You can do this. Deep breath._ **

“Fuck it.”

What?

Then a waterfall of blood rains down upon Granny. The crows inside look at her, interested, and then they take flight.

**_That, my dear boy, is poetry._ **

_Please get me down._

He can do that.


	34. Chapter 34

Kitty isn’t expecting Jonathan tonight. She never _really_ expects him, but tonight is quiet and he frightens her when he appears on her bed. Something’s wrong. Usually he at least knocks.

“Jonathan?”

“Please forgive me.”

That’s never a good thing to hear.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t be upset with him.” What…oh. Scarecrow. If he grabs her again, she’ll have no choice but to use her bat. “I had to do it. He wasn’t too happy about it. He’ll live.”

“What did you do?”

“She’s gone.” He grins and she shudders. “Ding-dong, the witch is dead.”

“Please put Jonathan back.”

“Just don’t be upset with him.” he warns. “Or I’ll be back.”

Then he’s gone and the boy in front of her is shivering again, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s dead.” he whispers. “Oh, god, she’s dead.”

“Talk to me. What happened, what’s going on?”

Does she really want to know? She doesn’t think she really wants to know.

“We killed her. W-we killed her, _Jesus…_ ”

Oh, god. He’s not saying what she thinks he’s saying. This is all a bad dream or a sick joke.

“Your grandmother?” He nods. “You’re quite sure she’s…” She has to swallow and even then the word comes out mangled. “Dead?”

“I-I looked. This afternoon. There’s not much left.”

That’s all she wants to hear. What the hell is she supposed to do? Call the police? Call a mental health place?

He hugs her, still shivering. Dammit.

“All right, love, you’re all right.”

“We had to.” She can’t tell who’s speaking now. “We had no choice.”

“No more, please.”

He shuts up and stays still. What is she supposed to do about this? She should call someone, she knows that, but…

“He’s not a serial killer, is he?”

“Hey!” That’s Scarecrow this time. “I was being helpful. I had no choice.”

“Okay.”

He has yet to hurt her. Or anyone else, as far as she knows. It _could_ be self-defense…maybe…

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No.” It’s Jonathan again-his voice is soft. “I didn’t want to tell you, but…”

“Okay.” she soothes. “Just calm down, you’re all right.”

He rests his head against her shoulder. She can’t feel her fingers. What the hell is she supposed to _do_? Can she be arrested as an accessory or something?

“They pecked out her eyes.” he says. “A-and pulled off her fingernails.”

“That’s enough.” she says. “Just calm down.”

This is all very sudden. There were never any signs he would do something like this. Aren’t there always supposed to be hints?

Scarecrow doesn’t count as a hint. Scarecrow counts as a mallet to the head, but even that…he said he was harmless. Apparently he was lying. Or he honestly didn’t know. How does that work? Shouldn’t she be panicking and running downstairs or something?

It’s shock, she decides. Plain old shock with a touch of denial. This is probably how parents feel if their child does something terrible.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to _me_.”

He shifts a bit and doesn’t move again. She looks at her fingernails, thinking that she needs to repaint them.

What is she supposed to do?


	35. Chapter 35

Kitty never does find out what became of the remains. She never asks.

She sorely considered looking up the number for the county asylum-surely they’ve got one-but she didn’t. It isn’t as though there’s a body count. The whole incident could be counted as self-defense.

He seems to have perked up now, two weeks later after the fact. Scarecrow hasn’t come out again. Kitty wonders if anyone’s noticed Mrs. Keeney’s disappearance.

“What do you think about Gotham?”

“Where’s that?”

“New York.”

Bright lights, stage productions, and tall buildings? She can’t complain about that.

“Ever been?”

“No.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

She wonders why he asked and then decides she doesn’t care. If it’s important, he’ll bring it up again.

The rain begins its tap-tap-tappity-tap on the window and she leans against his side. Whatever Scarecrow is, he won’t hurt her.

But that doesn’t mean that she’s not afraid of him.

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHAHA! COMPLETE!
> 
> Sorry. I had to.
> 
> I’m not sure if I’ve said this before, but the only thing I own here is Kitty. Jonathan Crane and his backstory are property of DC comics. So before you come at me for giving him a lousy childhood, I didn’t do it. Direct your pitchforks elsewhere, please.
> 
> There will be, of course, a sequel taking place during Batman Begins. Not to mention all the one-shots, mini-arcs, etc. located on my profile.
> 
> Stay scared. >-)
> 
> -Scary


End file.
